


Dragonslayers - The Ashes We Rise From

by HeraLedro



Series: Guild Wars: Dragonslayers [1]
Category: Guild Wars (Video Game), Guild Wars 2 (Video Game), Guild Wars Series (Video Games)
Genre: Ascalon (Guild Wars), Black Citadel (Guild Wars), Charr (Guild Wars), Guild Wars 2 Personal Story, LGBTQ Themes, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-14
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:41:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 22,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28056309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeraLedro/pseuds/HeraLedro
Summary: To the charr, the world is one of constant battle. The soldiers of the Blood Legion know this better than most - whether the violent revolution against the Flame Legion, or the bittersweet conquest of Ascalon, the Blood Legion know that there are only two options: victory or death. Losses are acceptable.But they are still losses. After an assault by the Ascalonian ghosts devastates their ranks, the Steel warband must pick up the pieces and continue on to victory.
Series: Guild Wars: Dragonslayers [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2055159
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4





	1. Chapter 1

In the Black Citadel, there is no silence. The clamour of anvils, the blasting of guns and the bubbling of the great Imperial smelter all meld together into a distinctive background din. For foreigners, this din is nearly impossible to become accustomed to, and they often quit the citadel for the peace of the plateaus to the north or the plains to the west.

However, for Hafwen Steelfletch, third lieutenant of the Blood Legion's very own Steel warband, the Black Citadel - with its smell of steel, grease, fire and pelt - was home. And at that moment, home meant herself, her warbandmate Reeva, and two big bowls of her latest creation: tapioca pudding, flavoured with vanilla beans and honey.

"Oh my gears this looks delicious," Reeva purred. She started to lift the bowl to her muzzle but a quick THWACK from Hafwen's spoon on her hand dissuaded her.

"Don't be such a cave-cat," Hafwen admonished, holding the spoon out to her. "Eat it slowly. Savour the sweetness. Bask in my artfulness."

Reeva rolled her eyes but did as she was bidden. No sooner had the spoon entered her mouth than she dove in for another spoonful. "By the Khan-Ur," she mumbled between mouthfuls. "This is...delicious...need a...a big shovel!"

With a rather pleased grin under her whiskers, Hafwen grabbed a spoon of her own. She licked at her lips and delicately raised a spoonful of the pale cream to her muzzle, anticipating the flood of flavour...

...Just in time for the horn of the Citadel to sound. The loud blare covered the great city’s din with its bellow, calling all troops to their positions.

"REALLY?!" Hafwen snarled, throwing her spoon in the bowl. "WE'RE UNDER ATTACK NOW?!" She grumbled, stood up with a thud of her fists on the table and looked over at the nearby quartermaster. "YOU! Make sure my pudding doesn't burn, or I'll use your horns for my next recipe!" She didn't even bother to wait to see the salute of the stunned quartermaster as she and Reeva turned and dashed on all fours to the mustering grounds. Hafwen whistled sharply. “Strider! Come on, we've got work to do!”

The sleek jungle stalker abandoned its sunbathing to follow her, grunting.

* * *

For Rowan Steelslash, the Black Citadel’s horn was just another day at the office. With a sword on his hip, a staff on his back and a torch in his hand, the first lieutenant of the Steel warband marched at the head of his contingency to the gathering of his warband under Legionnaire Urvan Steelbane. Despite the chaos of the surprise attack, the warband marched orderly to the entrance of Smokestead, where ghosts milled about with ghastly wails. They divided into three columns behind their lieutenants neatly and efficiently. Not an ounce of panic or nerves was to be seen, as befitting professional charr soldiers. Steelbane strode in front, greathammer held before him with a wide grip. His bellowing rose above the clamor of their gear. "Listen up, you mangy cur! Stand to attention!"

The warband obeyed, each standing straight as an arrow under the hard gaze of their legionnaire.

"Good. The ghosts are on the assault. We have two warbands already on-site, clearing us a path to the crypt of their leader: Duke Barradin. In twenty minutes, Tribune Brimstone and the Stone warband will accompany a small group of demolitionists into the site. We will set the charge and bring that crypt down on those infernal ghosts!"

A loud cheer drowned the noise of the Citadel that they had left behind. When it died down, Steelbane continued, "The Steel warband will carve its way to glory! We will drive the ghosts back and keep them away from the route long enough for the Tribune and his saboteurs to destroy the crypt!"

Another cheer rose, louder than the first, eclipsing the sounds of battle ahead. "Rage Steeltongue: take your squad to hold the left flank. I will guard the right flank with my warriors. Rowan Steelslash: you and your contingency are to establish and hold a perimeter around the crypt."

Rowan frowned and stared directly at his commanding officer. "Sir, with all due respect, the ghosts return moments after they are slain. Any path we clear will be repopulated within minutes. We need another plan."

Suddenly the clamour of anvils and clashing of steel was all too audible. Steelbane thudded his hammer head-first on the ground, lifting and dropping it with every step he took towards his lieutenant.

When they were face to face, Steelbane staring down at his subordinate, the legionnaire growled, "Are you a coward, Steelslash? Are you afraid to face these ghosts?" He laughed and said loudly, "Listen here, warband, Steelslash is too afraid to slay the spectres!" His voice dropped like a knell and he glared hard at Rowan. "Do not forget who your superior is, Steelslash. I gave you an order. You will see it through, or die trying. Are we clear?"

Every instinct Rowan had urged him to challenge his superior. Words like kamikaze and short-sighted echoed in his mind as he stared up at Steelbane, with images of swarming ghosts parading through his head in. Yet against his better judgement, Rowan conceded. "Crystal, sir."

"Good." To the group at large he said, "Fail here, and I carve your punishment from your flesh. Now, if there is no further insubordination, MOVE OUT!"

The two groups flanking Rowan's roared and charged with Steelbane. Rowan held his arm out, signaling his group to wait, and as the road to Smokestead filtered the warband into a single mass, he grabbed his sword and thrust it forward, roaring, "CHARGE!"

With Rowan in the lead, the contingency charged ahead. As the rest of the warband cleared the line, Rowan's charges slaughtered the leftovers and moved ahead through the barricades. The roar of battle was deafening, with war cries and wails of pain and the angry howling of ghostly Ascalonians melding into a droning cacophony.

"Don't give them an inch!" Rowan yelled, slamming his sword straight through the torso of a ghost. His torch glowed brightly as he coated himself in aetheric flames; he thrust the flaming shaft forward and the flames leapt from his body to consume a ghost in mid-leap. The ghost's intended target - Forge, a mammoth of a charr with deep flame-orange fur - expressed his gratitude by jabbing a dagger skyward and impaling a ghost with a spire of earth. A familiar shout came from behind Rowan, and with the practice of many years he dropped down to let Hafwen leap over him. As she cleared his horns she loosed her first arrow at a healing mage - the shaft flew fast and true, embedding itself into the wailing mouth of the spectre before Hafwen even touched ground. Rowan rose with her as she rolled and readied another arrow, only for a ghost to come bearing down on her with a spectral warhammer.

"LOOK OUT!" A panicked voice yelled out over the din, preceding its master as he surged forward. The grey tiger-striped soldier Dinky swept his shield out just in time to deflect the hammer. As the ghost made another attempt to strike - this time at Dinky - a bullet streaked through the air and punctured his wrist, loosing an explosion on contact and separating the now-disappearing hand from its host.

The marksman Ferrus leaned out of the cover smartly and released another explosive bullet from his pistol. The sooty charr's bullet flew straight into the ghost's face, stunning it with a small explosion. With a heavy smash of Dinky's mace the ghost toppled to the ground and faded away. The two high-fived with a loud crow. "Good job, partner!"

"Eyes forward", Rowan called, "We're not through yet!" His second lieutenant, Howl the Brazen, let out a roar and jumped forward, splitting a ghost in two fading pieces with his axe. Euryale and Forge led the charge, loosing fire and lightning in the front as the necromancer Arteus providing a rear guard and Dinky shielding their front.

Rowan, Hafwen, and Howl stalked down the road to the crypt, weapons at the ready, and were joined by Clawspur - a soldier whose appearance from the shadows was uncommonly quiet for one of the Blood Legion. Clawspur fell in line beside Rowan and commented darkly, "I don't like this. The warband is scattered, spread too thin."

“Not like we can do much about it,” Rowan replied, suppressing the low growl that threatened to rise from him as he thought back to Steelbane’s orders. “Steelbane’s orders.”

"Hmph! It'll be a hot day in the Mists when mighty Buttpain listens to his lowly grunts," Hafwen muttered. Howl nodded in agreement, grinning at Hafwen's grumbling. With the way clear, the warband regrouped in front of the crypt entrance, weapons at the ready.

"Listen up," Rowan said, standing tall. "Here's how it's going to work. Dinky, Forge, Clawspur, Ferrus, Maverick: you're on patrol. I want you coming and going, take out the ghosts as they return."

He turned to the rest of his group. "The rest of you are with me. Reeva, I want a rifle and missile turret on the front line. Euryale, back her up. Get back here as soon as you're done because I want a healing turret set up behind us yesterday." Both saluted and ran off to complete their task. "Hafwen, Howl, Arteus: the four of us will hold the line here. Move out!" The warband hastened to their assigned positions, leaving Hafwen, Howl, Arteus, and Rowan at the entrance, protecting it from all comers. Ghosts materialized around them and the warband readied their weapons amid the wails.

The shades of Ascalon were dispatched with brutal efficiency.

It was not long before Reeva and Euryale returned, with Steelbane himself stalking behind Tribune Brimstone. Rowan felt his chest swell. The tribune was a sight to behold: A giant of a Charr with a crimson mane, piercing eyes, and sharp dark horns which swept back alongside his skull. Rytlock stalked at the head of his warband. "We'll handle it, Steelbane. Just keep the entrance clear," he rumbled, all business.

Steelbane nodded profusely behind the Tribune. "Understood sir." His eyes fell on Rowan's group, encircling the entrance to the crypt.

At that moment, Dinky's party came around the bend. Looking straight at Rowan, the short soldier saluted. "Reporting in, lieutenant. No ghosties around anymore." Distinctive wisps of blue smoke rose off of the company's weapons, the sign of a good hunt, and Rowan saluted him in acknowledgement. Before he could congratulate them on a job well-done, however, Steelbane cut in.

"Steelhead,” he began, pointing at Dinky. “Take your party back out. I want you to fan out and hit these ghosts where it hurts. Take the fight to them, keep them off us. Steelshot, Steelslash, Steelgrave, Steelslitter, and Steelbender, I want you to back up my forces. Move, double time!"

All of them, even Tribune Brimstone, looked at the legionnaire incredulously and the absurdity of the order. Not noticing the look from his Tribune, Steelbane drew his hammer and snarled. "NOW! The rest of you are to stay with me outside the crypt. We will keep the ghosts from getting in."

Hafwen twitched. Her flaxen hackles, dirtied from combat, stood up in indignation. She was getting ready to burst into a rant when Rowan held up an arm and leveled his gaze at her. This was not the time.

If the Blood Legion Tribune disagreed with the legionnaire's orders, he did not show it. He pointed a gauntlet into the crypt and ordered them in. Before he entered after them, he turned to Steelbane and growled, "This had better work Steelbane, your job depends on it." With that, he drew the his flaming sword and descended into the gloom of the crypt, the red blaze of Sohothin descending into the cold ghost light of the mounted torches.

Within moments the human ghosts sprang upon them like locusts. They seemed to be birthed straight from the earth with cries of anger, descending on the group with fury. Rowan let out a roar and his company fought back tooth and claw. It was only by a timely fireball from Forge that the mass of ghosts were pushed back. Rowan and Hafwen pushed forward - bringing the torch up to his head, Rowan opened his maw and released a gout of flame, incinerating a group of ghosts who fell with frustrated screams of yet another death. Hafwen dove to the side, avoiding ghostly weaponry and released one, two, three arrows in quick succession, each finding their mark in the ethereal skulls of their targets. Her stalker Strider danced around the fray, pouncing on ghosts' backs, knocking them down for a well-placed shot from Hafwen’s bow.

"Back up!" Forge shouted, holding his arm to the sky. Hafwen, her stalker, and Rowan jumped back and in their place a shower of meteors rained down, evaporating what was left of the ghosts.

After a quick check to ensure that the ghosts had been taken care of, Rowan chanced a look back to the crypt. His blood ran cold and his face twisted into a roar of anger as he saw a closed gate, with Steelbane standing in front of it.

He knew it was against orders. He knew what Steelbane had told them to do, what his training was urging him to do, but he also knew when a wrong was being committed. Rowan stalked forward and shoved Steelbane aside. Past the gate and along the stairwell, ghosts rose out of the masonry, oozing through the cracks. The Blood Legion lieutenant started to pull open the gate, but was thrown aside by Steelbane. With a snarl, he reached forward and grabbed his legionnaire by the collar, pulling him close. "Open. That. Gate."

Steelbane threw him off and raised his hammer threateningly. "On whose authority, Steelslash? Yours? We can't risk the ghosts getting out, it's not going to-"

"OPEN THE GATE!!"

Rowan whipped around at the voice coming from behind them. An Ash Legion legionnaire come running. Taller than Steelbane, she aimed a pistol straight at his head. "Steelbane! By Smodur's missing eye, the battle is in the crypt!"

Steelbane shrank back, caught off guard at the pistol in his face. "I'm...I'm holding this tactical position, Gallowfoil! I-"

"NOW! Open that gate or I will mount your head on my wall!" At the click of the pistol's cock, Steelbane balked and pulled open the gate. Gallowfoil pointed her free claw at Rowan. "You! Get these soldiers down there and back up the Tribune."

Rowan nodded and waved his party in, giving Steelbane an icy glare as they passed. As they descended the stairs through the dank air of the crypt, Howl leapt ahead and beheaded a ghost with a roar of glee. "Best fight in weeks!" he crowed, waving away the expanding ghostly mist.

Rowan stopped the warband at the bottom of the stairs. "Howl, stay here and keep our escape route clear. If there's a ghost on the stairway, send it to the Mists. Hafwen, you're with me. I want the rest of you up there watching Steelbane; I don't trust him. If he tries to send you back down, lie and tell him you're there on Rytlock's orders."

Maverick chuckled and punched Rowan's shoulder, making him flinch a little. "Ooohhoho, I LOVE IT when you get rebellious!"

Rowan frowned at him and rubbed his shoulder before turning back to the group. "Everybody clear?" At a unanimous affirmative, he gave a nod and said, "Good. Make it happen."

Rowan and Hafwen charged ahead, facing little resistance as they weaved their way through the crypt, cutting down all opposition with the teamwork of shared growth in the fahrar. When they finally came upon Tribune Brimstone's group, they found them being swarmed by ghosts. Rowan grabbed his staff and channeled his magic, letting the warm feeling seep into the weathered wood. "Stand your ground!" he roared, and with a thrust of his hand a glowing symbol of light wrote itself into the ground under the tribune and his group of saboteurs. Light from the symbol pierced the assailing ghosts as the group - now joined by Rowan and Hafwen - attacked with renewed vigor.

Once the ghosts were fading wisps in the air, Hafwen crouched down and whispered to her stalker, Strider. With a yowl the jungle cat ambled off, prowling through the corridor and leaving Hafwen to turn back to help Rowan with the fallen. She placed a hand on the ground and a small geyser of magic-infused water began to gush out of the ground, washing over the assembled charr. Rowan himself reached down to Rytlock’s leg with his hands, a magical glow around them as he slowly mended a long gash. "There sir, stand up slow. What happened?"

"Damn ghosts ambushed us," Rytlock snarled. "We heard Barradin shouting orders at them but we can't-"

"BEGONE ANIMALS!"

Rowan and Rytlock turned to find the source of the ghastly scream. The form of Duke Barradin - a grizzled hulk of a ghost in plate armour - emerged from the giant statue before them, charging with his warhammer drawn. Rytlock and Rowan dodged to the side as he made a leaping smash, with an arrow from Hafwen whistling through the air to strike Barradin in the knee. "AAGGHH!" he shouted, staggering back and glaring in disbelief at the arrow that now protruded from his knee.

Hafwen snarled in delight. "Ya like that, Dukey? I got more for ya! Teaches you to interrupt my pudding tasting!"

Rowan and Rytlock took advantage of the distraction offered by the ranger and moved in tandem to Hafwen's side.

"Saboteurs!" Rytlock roared, "Keep planting the explosives!" He drew the flaming sword once more, swinging it threateningly at Barradin. "We'll deal with the pests."

Barradin's ghostly features hardened as he saw the flaming sword in Rytlock's grasp. He let out a wail and charged once more. "You dare wield Sohothin, beast? I will rip it from your corpse!" His bellowing voice was distorted, echoing with the Mists from which he was forever barred by his king. He made to swing his hammer, only to be body-checked by Rowan and Rytlock together. The impact sent the ghost tumbling, though he was able to raise his hammer and catch the joint downward strikes of the two charr. He roared and shoved back, rolling away and lifting his hammer into the ready position as Rowan, Hafwen, and Rytlock formed a semi-circle around him, slowly forcing him back to the wall as they moved in.

With his allies arrayed against Barradin, Rowan stood tall and pointed his sword at Barradin. "It's over, ghost. You ready to die again?"

Rowan watched as a Barradin backed up towards the base of his own statue. As his heel came in contact with it - fading through the stone - Barradin let out another bellow. "I will not be defeated...I will destroy you all!" With a last scream of desperation, he stepped backwards into the base of the statue, disappearing into the carved stone.

Hafwen, with her bow cocked, turned to Rytlock. "What do you think tribune, we scare him off?"

No sooner had she said it than the ground began to tremble with a hollow groan and the ceiling made uncomfortable grinding and crackling noises, raining dust and shards of stone on them. The statue before them seemed to come to life, cracking apart with ghostly energy keeping its form. Before any warning could be given, the giant stone hammer in the statue's grasp slammed down, killing the saboteurs setting the charges at its base. The detonator rolled out of a saboteur's hand.

Rowan’s eyes roved the statue and the crumbling crypt in a panic. Without warning, he charged forward, rolling under a swipe from the hammer and grabbing the detonator. He barely lifted his arm in time to catch the hammer as he cast his aegis, sending him to the ground under the impact. "HAFWEN!" he roared.

She was already diving into the fray; her deft fingers found a grenade from one of the fallen Charr, and she pulled the pin with her fangs before pitching it into the carved face of Barradin's statue. The grenade exploded in a bright flash, blinding the possessed statue.

As she slid to a stop beside Rowan, he leapt up and tossed her the detonator. "Hurry, get out and click the charge. I'll keep him busy and be right behind you," he said. Hafwen fixed him with a severe look and he pointed down the hall. "Go! Get the Tribune out, the rest of the warband too. I'll be right behind you." She didn’t move, glare affixed to Rowan, and he growled at her in response. "Hurry up!"

She turned and ran, shouting, "You'd better be behind me dumbass, or I'm coming back for you, even if I have to come to the Mists!"

Rowan turned back to the statue and dodged aside as another hammer strike came down. What he couldn't dodge was the swipe from the statue's hand, which sent him flying into a wall. Wheezing as the breath was knocked out of him, he barely managed to cast another aegis to block the impact of Barradin's next strike, sending him rolling to the side. In a last ditch effort, he grabbed a nearby boulder and threw it with a mighty roar. The stone smashed directly into Barradin's face, and the ghost-possessed statue let out a pained wail.

Rowan took the opportunity to dash for the exit, yelling "RETREAT!" down the hall as he scrambled around the sarcophagi. When he got to the stairs, he saw Hafwen lingering behind to help Howl, whose leg was bleeding badly from the knee. Running up behind her, Rowan grabbed Howl's arm and helped lift him up.

He looked at Hafwen and said, "Hit it!"

Hafwen obliged with a savage grin, pressing the red button on the detonator stick. They heard the explosions and the cries of Barradin's demise behind them, but they still weren't out of danger. As the ceiling began to fall, the two tried to pull Howl up the stairs as fast as they could, but it was to little avail - Howl’s legs were both limp, one slashed open and the other bent and broken at a sickening angle. Rowan growled as another ghost phased through the wall, raising its sword. “Come on Howl,” Rowan gritted, ducking down with Hafwen as Strider leapt ahead to rip out the ghost’s throat. It was as they came within reach of the top of the stairs that a chunk of stone fell and struck Howl on the shoulder, sending them all sprawling to the ground. Rowan and Hafwen stood, pulling Howl's arms to drag him through the exit.

"Come on, Howl," Hafwen grunted, "Let's...go..."

Larger chunks of debris began to fall from the ceiling and Howl relaxed, gripping their wrists. He grinned at them both with a bloodied but sincere smile. "You guys made this warband the best. Thanks..."

It wasn’t until they felt his fingers’ absence and they fell back on their tails that Rowan realized Howl had pulled his hands back. He and Hafwen jumped up and reached forward, crying "HOWL!"

Rowan and Hafwen barely managed to glimpse his grinning face disappearing beneath the rubble before a blast of noxious dust knocked them out.

* * *

Rowan's eyes parted slowly, the pounding in his head intensifying as the light blinded him. He raised his arm to block some of the sunlight, only for it to be grabbed by a pair of hands. He grunted as he was pulled into a bear hug by Hafwen.

"You're finally awake!" she laughed.

She released his arm and, despite the fact that he was clearly not in top form, slugged him hard in the shoulder. Her violet eyes glared at him as she poked his nose with a claw. "You ever scare me like that again and I'm feeding your tail to my pets!"

Rowan chuckled. "Yes ma'am. Where am I?" He sat up on what was apparently a thrown-together cot and looked around. Smokestead, he thought, taking in the iron walkways and steel beams. He could see the Three Legions Court bar to his right, and to his left the great walkway which lead to the Black Citadel. And on either side of him, he could see more makeshift cots with wounded soldiers.

Hafwen followed his gaze. "Smokestead," she affirmed with a nod. "I woke up here not long ago myself." Her expression fell when she looked back at him. "We got pretty messed up."

Rowan nodded and turned to set his legs down on the ground, testing them. "Nothing broken," he muttered, but winced a little at a pain in his ankle.

He reached down with a glowing hand and pressed it against the joint, and a soothing coolness seemed to spread across it. Testing it again, he began reaching for his gear.

"Alright, let's get the others and do some damage control."

Hafwen reached a hand out and gripped his wrist softly.

"Rowan..." she said quietly, "A lot of us...didn't make it. Anybody not out was ordered to report back to Steelbane at the 20th Blood Court in the citadel. We..."

She huffed and released Rowan's arm, sitting down on the cot beside him. "We lost nearly half of our squad - the original ‘us’. Howl, Maverick, Clawspur, Euryale..."

Rowan swallowed and asked the question whose answer he was nearly too afraid to hear. "Who...who's left?"

"Of course, Rage survived," Hafwen growled. "Steelbane too. From our squad, we still have Forge, Dinky, Arteus, Reeva, and Ferrus. Forge, Arteus, and Ferrus are in it deep, but they'll live. Reeva and Dinky were recalled to the citadel with the others. Howl..." She slammed her fist on the metal rod of the cot. "He died when the ceiling collapsed. He..."

"Then he did save us..."

Hafwen nodded. A silence fell between them as Rowan began to process the loss. It ached and burned, but it was hollow - a Howl-shaped void. He was only pulled out of it when Hafwen spoke again - a harsh, grating growl. "And it was all because of Steelbane..."

Rowan's growl was quieter, but every bit as venomous. "Yeah. And we'll make him pay." Rowan began reaching for his gear again, noticing that only his staff and armor was placed at his bedside. At a frustrated growl from him, Hafwen said, "I know. If it's any consolation, I'm left with only my sword and dagger. Bow snapped clean in half. Heck, Strider's looking battered himself, I might have to pen him and fetch Algernon. A staff is better than nothing, right?"

Rowan opened his mouth to reply but was cut off by the shout of a nearby legionnaire. A tall, tawny female with short horns (Legionnaire Aestiva Scribesort, Rowan remembered) stood tall over the wounded, weaving her way between the cots towards the pair. When she arrived, she saluted, a gesture which Rowan and Hafwen returned. "I heard about what you soldiers did down in the crypt. Very impressive."

Rowan shook his head. "We appreciate the praise legionnaire, but we were just doing our jobs. Tribune Brimstone was calling the shots."

Legionnaire Scribesort shook her head. "Don't sell yourselves short; you two are the reason Barradin is down for the count. All of Smokestead is safe because of you." She looked back around her, then returned her gaze to Rowan and Hafwen, crestfallen. "We took a lot of damage though. People are still edgy, and that explosion has created a hell of a fallout. We need people to help with the recovery. If people saw a pair of heroes like you making the rounds, well, that would certainly help morale and speed things up at the same time, wouldn't it?" She smiled. "I'd like to have volunteers, but right now we're desperate; if I have to give out the order, I will."

Rowan opened his mouth to tell her that they'd been recalled by their legionnaire, but Hafwen spoke up first, placing her hand on his shoulder. "No need legionnaire; we volunteer. Anywhere you'd like us to start?"

From the folds of her grey Iron Legion tunic, the legionnaire drew a piece of paper. Scanning it, she said, "I think you two would be best used at Tela Range. The explosion rattled the local skritt, and they're coming out of the woodwork to steal our supplies. Whether for repairs or just because they're shiny, I honestly couldn't tell you."

Rowan cocked an eyebrow at Hafwen, but nodded. "Understood Legionnaire, we'll take care of the skritt."

The three saluted again, and the legionnaire stalked away. Turning to Hafwen, Rowan gave a small grin and said, "Your turn to be rebellious, eh?"

Hafwen shrugged; she had a grin of her own, but it didn’t seem to reach her eyes. "We need some time to cool off before we meet up with Buttpain."

"How uncharacteristically wise of you."

Hafwen hooted, grin turning bright. "Well, if we don't, I'm liable to stab his face in...which, to be fair, is probably going to happen anyways, but I'd like to be aware when I do it, not in a red haze. So much more satisfying."

"Welcome back." Rowan grunted as he stood and started putting on his armor. "Where are the others?" he asked as he pulled his chain hauberk around his back and fastened it in the front.

Hafwen came around with his blue-tinted plate shell. "They're further up, but still out cold. We'll visit them when we come back."

He grunted in agreement as he received the shell from her, clipping it on each side with leather straps. Pulling an open shell of plate around his hips, he clipped it over and under his tail, then grabbed his staff. A soothing flow of magic ran through his arm at the contact, and he took a moment to close his eyes and revel in it. His magic always left him feeling warm, like a little fire that started in his chest and slowly extended to cover his entire body. He opened his eyes slowly, letting the warmth temper the heavy weight of loss that had been tangling his insides. With a deep breath he stood and nodded at Hafwen. "Let's go." Hafwen nodded and whistled for her pet.

* * *

Tela Range wasn't just playing host to a few skritt thieves - it was crawling with them, and a literal buzz hung in the air. The short bipedal rats scurried this way and that, skittering up and over stones and avoiding the dozens of charr chasing after them in their quest for 'shinies'.

"Mine!"

"Oooo, shiny!"

"Grab this."

"Heehee, silly kitties!"

"Mine!"

"MINE!"

As soon as Hafwen saw the unfolding chaos, she dropped to her knees and, holding her hands like a praying human, begged Rowan, "Please, please, PLEASE can we keep one?"

Rowan thought he was used to Hafwen's bouts of odd behavior but she always seemed to find new ways to surprise him with her strangeness - deliberate or otherwise. "No," he deadpanned.

"But look at them! They're so cute and they bring CHAOS!"

"Yes. So no."

Hafwen huffed and got to her paws, pulling out her sword and dagger. "Fine. But next adorable ball of chaos we come across, we keep it."

"No. You have more than enough crazy pets crawling through the barracks as it is." Rowan drew his own staff and waved her forward. "Come on, you've got the sword this time, so you're in front."

Hafwen didn't stay 'in front' for long. Within minutes, the two were chasing down skritt this way and that. With his staff magic and the magical walls it afforded him, Rowan had it a little easier, but Hafwen was in a rough spot, chasing them all around the range with nothing but a sword and dagger and a prayer that she would somehow hamstring a rat long enough for it to stop running. Even her stalker was turning in circles with frustrated yowls and snarls. She finally came back to Rowan, holding a skritt by the scruff of its neck while another straddled hers with a grip on her horns, trying to chew the gold band on her upper right ear.

"I take it back. These things are hellions." Mechanically, she raised her free hand and grabbed the one gnawing on her earring by the throat, pulling it in front of her.

Rowan chuckled. "Exactly. But on the bright side..." He looked down at the struggling skritt pinned under his right paw. "I think I caught their leader."

A wide grin slid across Hafwen's face. "Oh have you now?"

She crouched down to look the struggling, chattering skritt in the eye, keeping a firm hold on the ones she already held. "And what should we do with it? I've always kinda wanted to try skritt in a pie. And Strider hasn't eaten yet!" The stalker's ears pricked up at the sound of his name and he licked his chops, growling deep in his throat.

The skritt under Rowan's paw let out a frightened squeak. "Eeee! No, no killee skritt, no eat skritt! We make good shiny things, yes, yes, but they get exploded! Yes! Just want live, feed families, get shinies!"

"Tell you what," Rowan said, reaching down and pulling the skritt up by his leather sash. "I know where you can get supplies, but you need to promise that you'll stay away from the Black Citadel. Got it?"

"Yes, yes, skritt obey! Scratch big, can remember, yes! Tell skritt where to find supplies!"

Rowan jerked his head towards the distant Lake Adorea, speaking in slowly and clearly. "Out there on the other side of the lake, there's another group of big charr like us, but they are our enemies. Very easy to find, armor that looks like fire. Following?" At a nod from the skritt, he continued. "Those charr have camps tucked away inside caves and crevices. There are a bunch to the north too, in Diessa Plateau. You want supplies, those are the best places to find 'em. You come back here, and I feed you to Hafwen's pet. Understood?"

The skritt nodded once, twice, three times. "Yes, skritt understand, yes! Good kitties! You let skritt go now?"

Rowan nodded and set his prisoner down, releasing his sash. "Yeah. Get going then, take your scratch and leave." He looked at Hafwen. "Let those two go with their leader."

Hafwen dropped them both in a bundle at her paws, and gave one a kick in the tail for good measure. "There ya go, get out of here ya dumb rats before I change my mind."

The buzz that had permeated the air since their arrival suddenly flared, and all the skritt started running in the direction of Lake Adorea. The charr that had been chasing the skritt were flummoxed, scratching their heads in confusion. Hafwen thumped Rowan's shoulder again.

"Good idea, boss; give those Flame Legion bastards the hella time we've been having."

"Yup." Rowan looked up at the sky to see the sun well-past its zenith. "Come on, let's go check in on Forge and the others before we go back to see-"

"Buttpain."

Despite himself, Rowan chuckled. "Yeah, him."

* * *

When Rowan and Hafwen arrived at the makeshift infirmary in Smokestead, they found Forge and Arteus sitting up on their bunks, chatting animatedly. They saluted as Rowan and Hafwen approached, and when the two sat down on the bunks beside their warbandmates, Arteus jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "Ferrus is still sleeping," he rumbled in gravelly tones. "Kid took a nasty bump to the head apparently, but he'll be up and at 'em soon. Where you two been?"

"Dealing with some pests," Hafwen said, stroking Strider's head but casting a closer look at Ferrus's dozing form. "Nice to see you two lunkheads up and about though."

Forge fingered at the bandages covering his chest under his open robe. "You know," he muttered, "I'm getting real tired of these ghosts. Just ten minutes ago they took two more bodies to the cemetery just outside. Two more charr that died when those ghosts are just gonna come right back."

Hafwen and Rowan shared a look. "Look guys," Hafwen said, turning to look at Forge and Arteus in turn. "We have some...bad news."

Arteus shook his snowy head. Beneath the sooty mark covering his forehead and muzzle, his expression fell. "Don't bother, we already know."

"Ferrus is going to be devastated," Forge said, looking back at Ferrus. "Hard enough to lose a brother, I can't imagine what it's like to lose a mate you grew up with. Maverick had the big head, Ferrus the big brain, and they both had the big hearts." He looked over his shoulder at the sleeping form of Ferrus behind him. "Kid's gonna be devastated..." he repeated, shaking his head.

Hafwen patted his shoulder gently. "I know. He's a tough kid, though. He'll be fine."

Rowan looked at his fellow bandmates and then stood up. "I'll be right back." He took off straight to the Three Legions Court bar. When he returned fifteen minutes later, it was with a keg and four pewter mugs. He put the keg down on the bed between him and Arteus, then shoved a spigot in.

"Had to break up a bar fight to get this," he muttered as he filled the mugs with a pint each, "and once I told the bartender why I wanted it, he gave it to me free of charge. I figure some tavern beer is just the thing." He handed everyone a mug and raised his own. "To our fallen brothers and sister. May they find glory in the Mists."

"To good soldiers!"

"To warriors!"

"To friends."

"To family," they all chanted, and they each downed their pints in one go. When they had finished, Hafwen looked to Arteus and Forge. "We've been ordered by Buttpain to check in at the 20th Blood Court."

"We've been told by the chirurgeon to stay here," Arteus said. "Doc's orders and all. But if you stab him, give it an extra twist for me."

A dangerous look crossed Hafwen's eyes as that cheshire grin returned. "Will do, and I'll even-"

"Nobody is killing anyone yet," Rowan admonished. "Steelbane has loyal followers like Steeltongue.” He took a deep breath as he mentally committed to the mutinous acts they had been discussing so idly. “...If we're going to do this, we're going to do it right, not kill him and then get cut up because we were too stupid to know when to pick our fights." He placed his mug on the ground and stood up. "If you two are sticking around, then can one of you try to sneak off and bring the mugs back to TLC? Hafwen and I should get going."

Hafwen stood up and fingered the pommel of her blade, eyeing Ferrus one more time. After they said their farewells and began to make their way to the citadel, she turned to Rowan and said, "Can I borrow a bow and snipe him? Please?"

"No."

* * *

As the gate to the Hero's Canton opened, Rowan and Hafwen steeled themselves. This was not going to be a pleasant debriefing. What was pleasant, however, was being greeted by Dinky and Reeva on the other side of the gates.

"You made it!" Dinky crowed. He thumped Rowan in the gut and grabbed Hafwen in a mock headlock.

"I think we're the only ones that made it," Reeva said. Much of her usual spark was gone, but she had a small smile on her face. She was trying.

Rowan shook his head. "No, we're not. We lost Maverick, Clawspur, Euryale, and Howl...but the rest of us survived."

The smile on Reeva's face grew wider and sincere, and Dinky let out a loud whoop. "Alright! We're not all alone!"

"YOU!" The group turned towards the source of the shout, and saw a dirty-white Blood Legion female stalking towards them. "Well, look who finally came back. When Steelbane gets through with you, you're gonna wish you'd stayed buried with the rest of them."

Hafwen's eyes opened wide and she threw off Dinky's headlock, sending the smaller charr onto his back. "What did you say!?" she snarled. She was stopped by Rowan's hand on her shoulder.

Rowan's own expression was angry, but controlled. He stood tall over the encroaching charr and ground out, "You'd better show some respect, whelp. Now who are you, and why are you breathing at us?"

The female gave another scathing look at Hafwen before she replied. "Cerosi Breaksteel. The legionnaire recruited me, along with the others, to rebuild the warband."  
  
"WHAT?!" Rowan roared. He leaned forward, and to her credit, Breaksteel backed up two steps rather than look straight at him. "He's recruiting without asking us?!"

"Yeah, because you're dead remember?" Breaksteel's tail swished as she turned away from the conversation and started marching back to the Blood Court. "Probably better off that way too. Report to Steelbane in the barracks, or you'll be in for a beating."

"A beating!" Hafwen and Reeva shrieked. Reeva's hand shot for her pistol, but Dinky's own grabbed onto her wrist.

"I'll show that puffed up hairball a beating if he wants me to!" Hafwen snarled.

Rowan’s grip on his staff was as a vice, and he took a moment to take deep breaths and process. Battle meditation, his primus had called it. Separate, compartmentalize, and understand. Loss. Pain. Anger. Vindictiveness. Unfair.

Focus on what you can fix, and accept everything else. Steelbane. The brutish, stubby white and grey muzzle of Steelbane took shape in the eye of Rowan’s mind. The underbite and crooked teeth. Then the small eyes, and the perpetual scowl. Those thick downward pointing horns. Ripping them off. Stabbing one into the dirty white throat, the soft belly, straight through the heart.

The consequences tempered him. A tide of red and flashing steel crashing down on them. Forge, Ferrus, and Arteus left alone to grieve, and worse, unprotected. Rowan knew that if Steelbane died now, they would die. They had to do this carefully.

Slowly, Rowan calmed himself. When the noise in his head died down to a dull roar, he said, "Let's...let's go. Keep your weapons at the ready but do not attack unless we are attacked first, and if that happens do not kill anybody but Steelbane, and even then, only if he takes a swing. Understood?" The others obeyed, somewhat begrudgingly in Hafwen's case, drawing their weapons and stalking after him as he started for the court.

When they arrived, they were met with a sight they did not expect: rows of Blood Legion soldiers, all bearing the Steel warband crest, with Steelbane and Steeltongue at the back, conferring over something on a table. Rowan's grip tightened on his staff.

"Keep your weapons ready," he whispered to his partners.

A delayed hush fell over the court as Rowan and the others walked through. It went unnoticed by Steelbane and his council for a time, but Rage Steeltongue eventually took notice. Seeing Rowan and the others approach, he tapped Steelbane on the shoulder. "Legionnaire," he said, loud among the muted whispers surrounding them, "looks like some sewage just floated in from the battlefield."

Steelbane followed Steeltongue's gaze, and his face darkened. Rowan made an attempt at diplomacy by leading with a salute to his legionnaire, but it went ignored by the seething charr. The whispers of the crowd disappeared as the legionnaire moved around his desk and approached Rowan's party. "You?” he growled, low but distinctly audible in the silence. “You got my best soldiers killed, you fool!" Steelbane raged, slashing his hand through the air. "And now, here you stand, stinking up my barracks with you cowardly musk!"

"He got them killed?" Hafwen yelled back. "Tell me something 'boss' - who's in charge of this outfit? Who was giving the orders?"

Rowan pointed right at Steelbane. "You."

"Watch your tongues," Steelbane growled back, "or I'll have them removed for insubordination." He turned his back and walked back to his table. "Rage, teach this piece of waste how to address a legionnaire."

A bloodthirsty grin crossed Steeltongue's face. "With pleasure." He strode forward and raised his voice to the whole warband. "Warband! Let's teach these mongrels a lesson!" A loud roar went up among the crowd and they slowly began to close in on Rowan's party.

Rowan gripped his staff and shifted into a ready stance, a move which his comrades mirrored. "Remember," he said. "Don't kill them. Cripshots only."

The first soldier struck at them, stabbing for Dinky with his sword. Dinky deflected it and ducked down as Reeva unleashed two bullets, striking the soldier in the knees. He collapsed with a cry, and another soon came in, leaping at them with his greatsword. Hafwen dodged the strike and sank her dagger into the soldier's thigh. As the soldier reared back in pain, Hafwen's sword pommel came down on his head, knocking him unconscious. With her dagger held before her and her sword to the side, she snarled at the crowd.

"Who's next?"

A new recruit, young and seemingly fresh out of the fahrar, wisely backed away from the furious Ranger and her snarling stalker.

In response, a group of four started charging the party, but ran face-first into a wall of light which sent them careening back. Hafwen and Reeva went to work, slitting their hamstrings and crushing their kneecaps. It was as Dinky's mace clobbered another soldier and he raised it to dispatch Cerosi that a voice roared out over the din, "STAND DOWN! All of you, stand down now!"

Stomping towards them with his hammer in hand, Steelbane raged at them. "So, you fight your own warband better than you fight the enemy!"

He slammed his hammer on the ground and pointed back out of the Canton. "Go pick up a load of supplies at Tela Range while I figure out what to do with you!" He stood over Rowan, glaring down at him. "Screw this up," he whispered, "and I will use your hide as a doormat. Understood?"

Rowan shot out an arm to stop Hafwen's move forward, but he didn't break eye contact with Steelbane. "Understood...boss." Steelbane turned back to the rest of the warband as Rowan grabbed Hafwen and gestured to the others to follow him. Hafwen spared one last scathing look at their legionnaire before following Rowan out.


	2. Chapter 2

To say that Rowan and his bandmates were furious at Steelbane would be a gross understatement. Rowan fumed silently as they exited the Black Citadel, while Reeva and Hafwen imagined slow and painful tortures for their legionnaire.

"No, no, I got it: we tie him up in a devourer nest with a hunk of meat around his neck, then have Rowan and Forge heal him in bursts just to make it last longer."

"Too easy," Hafwen muttered, "I say we go with the good old fashioned roasting alive. Stick him over a fire and turn him round and round on a spit. Buttpain's fat ass will feed my pet for a month!"

Rowan turned back and said, "Cut the chatter. Steelbane will get his, but until then we have a job to do."

As they passed the path to Smokestead, Reeva started to turn. When she saw the others continuing onward, she asked, "Hey, uh, shouldn't we go check in on the rest of the band?"

The procession halted and both Rowan and Hafwen shook their heads. Rowan said, "Right now we're on a mission-"

"As low-rank as it is," Hafwen interjected.

Rowan frowned at her, but continued. "...And for the moment, we need to keep Steelbane happy. Until we're ready to strike, we keep our cards close."

"How very Ash Legion of you," Hafwen quipped.

"It's not Ash Legion," Rowan growled, "It's not being suicidal. It's how us runts survived the fahrar, eh Dinky?"

Dinky nodded emphatically. "Right boss!"

Reeva was getting impatient. "Come on Rowan, I haven't seen them since I woke up in the infirmary. Can't we just go check in on them?"

"No," Rowan insisted. At Reeva’s downcast look, he softened his voice; low morale was bad for everybody. "I don't want to give Steelbane an excuse to have us court-martialed. If he does, it'll be harder to depose him and avenge our bandmates." Reeva relented, walking up beside Rowan. He placed a hand on her shoulder and said comfortingly, "Don't worry, they're fine. A bit bruised and angry, but alive and well." Reeva nodded and Rowan began to lead the group back out into the field.

Tela Range was not far from Smokestead, and they soon found themselves at the top of the now skritt-less hill. What greeted them, however, filled them with disgust.

A sooty female charr in red Blood Legion armour was kneeling next to a similarly-armoured corpse, flanked on either side by crates of rations and weapons. Surrounding her with their weapons drawn were nearly half a score of other Blood Legion, and in front of them facing the female directly was a sooty soldier in plate armour, tinged a burnt orange. Flame Legion, Rowan thought. He drew his weapon slowly and silently gestured for the others to do the same. They approached cautiously from the rear, listening to the proceedings.

"The rest of your warband defected voluntarily, don't be stubborn!" the Flame soldier advised. He held a large sword in one hand, but its point was down, and his hand was extended imploringly to the female charr. "Why fight for Blood when you can cook for Flame? Females have it easy with us."

The female's eyes flared at this. She stood up from her kneeling position and grated, "You want me to desert so you can promote me to FRY COOK?" A rough, threatening laugh rolled out of her. "Please, I've killed a hundred males twice your size."

The Flame soldier leveled his blade at her. "Fall in line," he growled, "Or fall on a blade. I don't care which."

At this point, Rowan had had enough. He gestured to Reeva and pointed at the Flame soldier. Warning shot. Reeva complied, releasing an explosive round from her pistol. The Flame soldier leapt forward as the bullet burst by his paws. Rowan laughed mockingly at the soldier. "No luck trolling for recruits at the pig farm? You must be desperate..."

Dinky tossed his mace into the air and caught it by the shaft again, an eager grin stretching over his face. "Came here for those supplies-"

"Dinky!" Hafwen hissed.

Rowan shook his head as he saw the light glint in the Flame soldier's eyes. "Doesn't matter. This will be a lot more fun..."

The Flame soldier laughed back at Rowan. "If it's fun you want, then let's go. Recruits! Time to earn your place in Flame: burn those supplies and bury these fools. Let's send a message to Blood..."

A stone formed in the pit of Rowan's stomach as one of the former Blood soldiers tossed a grenade into the supplies. The female dodged out of the way, barely avoiding the explosion and the accompanying shrapnel. She roared at her warband, "Traitors!" She leapt into battle, impaling one of her former warband with her sword. As she ripped it back out of the new corpse, Rowan's group joined the fray.

Hafwen was quick to slip in and parry an attack meant for the female's head with her dagger. “Watch it chicky,” she warned, slicing through the back of the offending charr's knee with her sword, and as he fell to his knees Strider leapt forward and ripped into his throat.

The sooty charr paid the save forward by grabbing a fallen dagger and chucking it hard. The blade embedded itself in the back of a soldier assailing Dinky, who took the opportunity to bash his head in. “Names Elexus; formerly Shredskin, but now I guess I’ll need to find something else.” Elexus charged from behind Hafwen, barreling towards the Flame soldier who had recruited her warband.

Rowan saw her and ran after Elexus, shouting to Reeva, "Back up Hafwen and Dinky, I'll help Elexus!" He arrived as she carved a gash into the throat of one of the ex-bandmates, jumping in front of her to deflect an arrow meant loosed by the Flame recruiter. Rowan raised his hand and a clear, shimmering veil appeared in front of Elexus, reflecting a second arrow right back to the soldier. The Flame soldier dodged aside, avoiding his own arrow with a roll. Rowan came up beside Elexus and growled, "Don't go in without backup." As the wall before them faded, the Flame soldier loosed another arrow, this time for Rowan. Rowan leaned back, using his staff as a third leg as he avoided the arrow, then pushed off the staff and thrust it forward, sending a wave of energy ahead. The wave struck the Flame soldier, sending him stumbling back, and Elexus leapt forward and beheaded him in one clean swipe.

"Rowan!"

Rowan turned back to the voice. Hafwen pointed further down the range: from the field exploded a jet of flame ten feet high and half as wide. Another Flame legion soldier stepped out of it, followed by several other archers and warriors. He growled, "Very well, you have my attention. Let Centurion Prathar demonstrate the power of Flame." He drew a sword, which coated itself in flames as it was drawn, and pointed to the group. "Kill them."

As the warriors ran forward brandishing axes and swords, the archers raised their bows and released a salvo of arrows towards the group. Rowan raised another reflective wall in front of the group, sending the arrows back to their sources. Though not all of them struck, it caused enough confusion for Hafwen to charge past the advancing warriors and throw herself into the midst of the archers. Strider followed suit, and the two caused chaos amid the archers as they hacked and slashed at the enemy charr.

Meanwhile, Dinky lead the charge into the host of warriors, thrashing and bashing with his mace and shield. Reeva's bullets struck the heads of dazed warriors, and Rowan summoned a symbol of light beneath them to tear into the grouped-up foes.

For her part, Elexus was soon to follow Hafwen. Her sword severed the bowstrings of several archers, forcing them to rely on their subpar skills with daggers before they fell prey to the blades of the charr and the teeth and claws of the stalker.

Before long, Prathar was the last charr standing. He leveled his sword and raised his shield. "As it should be...allow me!" He charged forward and caught Hafwen off-guard, ramming into her with his shoulder and knocking her onto her tail. He raised his sword to impale her, but it was caught in mid-swing by Elexus' own sword. Prather thrust with his shield and knocked her off-balance, but as he charged a solid band of light rose between them. He ran head-first into the band, knocking himself flat. As he recovered, Dinky leapt over the band and brought his mace down. Prathar jumped up and used the force of the motion to smash his shield into Dinky's mace. His own swing was blocked by Dinky's shield; with their weapons locked into a stalemate, the two growled and snarled at each other. It was broken up by Reeva, who released a charged bullet from her pistol straight into Prathar's face. He roared in pain and reared back, only to feel his sword bashed from one hand and his shield ripped from the other. The last thing he felt was the two-pronged thrust of Hafwen and Elexus' swords, impaling him crosswise through the front.

As the two pulled their swords from Prathar's corpse, Dinky and Reeva let out a loud whoop. "Yeah!" Dinky crowed, "Take that you Flamers!"

Elexus and Hafwen cleaned their blades on the clothes of a dead Flame Legion archer and returned to Rowan, who had moved back to the supplies. When Hafwen arrived, she and Rowan began digging through the wreckage, seeing if there was anything they could scavenge from this fiasco. The light of battle gone from her eyes, Elexus crouched down by the corpse she had been standing near upon Rowan's approach. "I knew this soldier," she said quietly. Rowan stopped digging and watched her. Her shoulders were slumped in her heavy red plate armour, eyes dark and downcast. "Best quartermaster in the legions. Whatever you needed - weapons, rations, anything - he had it."

Rowan stood and walked over to them. The quartermaster's eyes were still open, and Elexus was staring at them. He knelt down and drew his fingers over the eyes, closing them. Elexus closed her eyes herself and a small tremor shook her body. Rowan stood and placed a hand on her shoulder. "I never knew him, but just like any charr worth his horns, he would be proud of you for your loyalty."

Elexus shook her head. "My whole warband...they deserted, all for the promise of power." She looked at Rowan; the sadness was still there, but there also was determination. "I've nothing left but my life. If you'll have me in your ranks, it's yours."

Rowan was about to reply when - "I CAN DO SO MUCH DAMAGE WITH THIS!" He turned to see Hafwen holding a large steel claymore high with an eager, fiendish grin on her face. Reeva soon trotted up and started sorting through the wreckage with Hafwen, seeking out useful tools for her own.

Rowan smiled and turned back to Elexus. "Life's never dull in this warband. We need good soldiers, and you're a hell of a fighter. Consider yourself part of the warband." He frowned as he looked back at the trashed supplies. "Just...be warned, our legionnaire is going to drown us for losing those supplies."

Elexus stood and chuckled. "Don't worry, I'm pretty good at holding my breath. Better than being a gladium."

Dinky kicked at the corpse of Prathar. "Hey guys, I bet Steelbane would fit in perfect with these guys! I mean think about it, he's grumpy, stupid, weak, and knew exactly where they'd be!" When his loud guffaw was not shared by the others, he looked over to them. Rowan and Reeva were standing stock-still, looking directly at him. "What? I thought it was funny!"

Reeva walked over to Rowan and said, "You don't think...?"

"What? No guys come on," Dinky muttered, walking back to the group. "See it was just a joke, I-"

"No," Rowan said quietly, "It...it fits."

Elexus turned to Reeva and asked, "Who's Steelbane."

"Our legionnaire," Reeva replied. She shared a look with Rowan and said, "And I think he's also a traitor. Or at least, someone is."

"It's way too perfect that he sent our squad here," Rowan said, turning back to Reeva. "Think about it. During Barradin's assault he specifically split up our team. The rest of the warband always knew our squad had the best soldiers in the band. Now we've been broken into pieces; four dead, three recovering. Then he sends us right into a Flame Legion recruiting mission." He punched the remains of a barrel, shattering it under his gauntlet as he fumed. "He's trying to take us out of the picture. Why though? What's he up to?"

"If you think he may be a Flame defector," Elexus supplied, "then maybe something is happening that he doesn't want you interfering with."

"We need to take this to the Tribune," Reeva said, leaning in. "This is way over our heads."

"If we do that, we won't be able to avenge our band," Rowan growled. "Steelbane must pay...and we're going to see that he does." He looked Reeva dead in the eye. "Time for a promotion."

Reeva blinked twice. "What, you mean you're gonna take him on? Are you nuts?"

Hafwen poked her head out from the supply wreckage. "Yes!"

Rowan ignored her. "Steelbane is a coward. I'll be fine."

"He's not so tough," Dinky said. "He likes sending us in to do his dirty work, remember?"

Hafwen jumped up from the pile. She had the giant greatsword strapped to her back and a new shortbow in her hand. In the other... "Hey Rowan, I found you a present!" She held out to Rowan a steel sword and wooden torch.

Rowan took the weapons. He appraised the sword, testing its heft until he was satisfied, and channeled his magic through both the sword and the torch. The familiar warmth crawled up his arms, and he reveled in it before looking at Hafwen. He smiled through the flame. "Perfect. We're gonna hit Smokestead, and then we're gonna hit Steelbane."

Hafwen's jaw dropped and she blinked in astonishment. "You made a joke?! Oh my claws, I'm so proud of you! I mean it's only a pun, but still..."

Rowan turned his back to them and marched for Smokestead. "You've known me since I was five years old, Hafwen. It’s been twenty years; you were bound to rub off on me sometime."

Elexus stared after Rowan and Hafwen as they made their way towards the hill. She turned to Reeva and asked, "Uh...what was that?"

Reeva smiled and marched after Rowan and Hafwen. "Believe it or not, personal growth!"

* * *

"Check."

Forge eyed the move that Arteus had made on the chessboard, frowning as he tried to think of a way to save his Khan. He moved a peon up to cover it, only for Arteus to slip his siege tower through the gap. "And mate," Arteus said with a wide grin.

Forge huffed and turned over in his cot. "Damn you..."

Arteus grabbed his Khan and waved it back and forth over Forge's muzzle. "Wanna go again? Third time's the charm!"

"Get that out of my face, you-" Forge's comment was cut short as he heard a groaning beside him. He and Arteus looked over to see Ferrus stirring in his cot and slowly coming awake. Forge sat up and Arteus climbed over to Forge's cot. "Hey little Bomb," Forge said, making room for Arteus by sliding his legs over the cot edge. "Take it slow. Nasty bump on your head."

Ferrus brought a claw up to his head and felt the bandages wrapped around it, tied neatly around his horns. "What happened? Where are we?"

"Smokestead," Arteus answered simply. "We took a hit during the assault on Barradin, we've been here a bit over a day in this makeshift infirmary."

Ferrus sat up slowly, staving off the dizziness. He looked over to Arteus and Forge, groaning quietly. "Ow, my head hurts." He looked around him, clearly searching for something. When he didn't find it, he looked back to Arteus and Forge and asked, "So, where is everyone? Shouldn't we all be here?"

Forge shook his head. "Nah. Reeva and Dinky were the first to wake, and then it was Hafwen and Rowan. They went to deal with that idiot Steelbane while we recovered. Still waiting for the medics to get back and give us the OK to get going."

"Where's Maverick?"

Forge and Arteus shared a look, and they saw in each other the same icy grip that had grabbed their stomachs just hours before. At their silence, Ferrus' eyes grew wide. Arteus switched over to Ferrus' bed and said softly, "Maverick is...a lot of us didn't make it. Howl, Maverick, Euryale, Clawspur...they were all killed."

Ferrus sat up and drew his knees into his chest. He didn't look at Arteus or Forge as he asked, "...How?"

"Steelbane split us up," Forge answered. "Some of us were caught in the blast since we were out of the loop. Others were cut down by ghosts."

"I was with Maverick," Arteus offered. He placed a hand on Ferrus' arm and said, "He died taking down dozens of ghosts. I never saw him fight that hard before. He...he wanted to come back to you." Ferrus pulled his legs up even closer. Arteus gave Ferrus another pat on the shoulder. "I'm...really sorry kid."

When Ferrus didn't say anything, Arteus got up and went back to his cot. Before turning back to his own cot, Forge said to Ferrus, "If you need anything, we're right here." Ferrus laid down in his bed and turned his back to Arteus and Forge. The only sign that he was still conscious were the sporadic, silent quakes that shook his body.

Arteus moved to set the chessboard up again when he saw Forge point past him. Turning to follow Forge's claw, he saw Rowan and Hafwen approaching with Reeva and Dinky in tow, as well as another unfamiliar female charr. Arteus stood from his cot and approached them, waving a hand in friendly greeting. "Welcome back," he called. "Who's the new recruit?"

"She's Elexus," Dinky replied, collapsing face-down into an empty cot and groaning when his horns punctured the fabric.

"I'd recommend against choosing a new name for the Steel warband," Rowan advised Elexus as he sat on Dinky's cot. "Pretty soon we're going to have a new name."

Arteus' and Forge's eyes widened as they both looked at Rowan. Forge straightened in his cot. "...You mean...?"

Reeva nodded. "We're gonna show Buttpain what it means to mess with us." She dove into the tale of their encounter with Steelbane in the 20th Blood Court. As she began to tell of Steelbane setting the warband against them, Hafwen looked back to Ferrus. She wordlessly walked around the cots to him, homed in on his shaking frame. Rowan followed her with his gaze as she walked around the cots and sat down beside Ferrus, leaning down and placing a hand on his upper arm. A particularly noticeable tremor wracked his body, and Rowan's expression fell with Hafwen's when Ferrus curled up tighter in his bed.

Rowan turned his attention back to Reeva as she finished her story. "Seems pretty clear to us that someone's ratted us to Flame, and I can't think of anybody more likely than Steelbane," she concluded.

Forge clenched a fist and ran his other hand through the fire-red mane on his neck. "Can't believe it..." he muttered. "I always knew Steelbane was a cowardly crooked old cat, but I never would have expected something like this."

"Something doesn't fit," Arteus rumbled. His claws stroked slowly at the spindly fur on his chin. "I mean, what would Steelbane have to gain by getting his best warriors killed? He's already in charge, it's not like he would gain power."

"Probably thought we were getting too good," Reeva replied. "Think about it, if we chose to depose him, who would stop us? We're the best damn soldiers in the band."

The rings on Arteus' ears clanked as he shook his head. "No, something still isn't right."

"Doesn't matter," Rowan cut in. "It's time for Steelbane to pay."

Arteus growled an affirmative. "Now that, we agree on. I presume you're off to stick it to his ass right now?" At Rowan's nod, Arteus looked behind him at the forms of Hafwen and Ferrus. Lowering his voice, he said, "Look, I want to watch you spank Steelbane across the citadel as much as anyone else here, but...Ferrus hasn't been cleared yet, and I'd like to stick around to keep an eye on him. He isn't taking Maverick's death well."

Rowan nodded and turned to Forge. "How about you? Want to come and watch Steelbane get kicked into the dirt, or stick it out here for Ferrus?"

Forge cast a glance back at Ferrus and shook his head. "I think Ferrus will have everything he needs with Arteus. I'm gonna come along." As he stood he reached over and grabbed his staff.

Rowan stood and called to Hafwen. "Come on Hafwen, we're heading out."

After a quick glance over her shoulder, Hafwen leaned down to Ferrus and said quietly, "Stay tough kid. We're going to go flay the ass responsible." She squeezed his shoulder and stood up, her hand raising and gripping the shaft of her shortbow tightly. As she came up to Rowan, an unusually cold venom tinted her voice. "Let's go murder that bastard."

Rowan's own scowl angled to match her as he nodded. "Come on, warband," he rumbled. He pulled Dinky's head out of the cot and turned him over. With a deep, commanding growl he said, "Let's take our revenge." The clanking of armour and shuffling of robes and leather preceded them as the warband marched towards the ramp connecting Smokestead to the Black Citadel.

* * *

The legs of a steel card table bent and snapped under the force of the armoured charr as he collided with it. The charr in question groaned and arched her back in pain as Elexus stood over her. Rowan held up a mage, Steel warband like the first, with an iron grip on the collar of their robe. He pinned the charr against the wall with a menacing growl. "Where. Is. Steelbane?" The charr sputtered and gasped for breath but said nothing. With a roar, Rowan threw the charr to the ground by their companion and swiped the sword across the mage's robe, tearing a hole in it and leaving behind a strip of fur shorter than the rest. "I'm not going to ask again. Where is Steelbane?"

"He-he's...at the Bane..." the charr gasped, watching the sword blade as it pressed against his throat. "Meeting with Tribune Brimstone..."

Reeva and Elexus drew in a sharp breath at the same time and Forge turned to Rowan, but the tiger-striped leader's expression did not change. "Good. Then he can watch as I bring Steelbane to justice." With that he reversed his grip on the blade and drove the pommel straight into the forehead of the mage, knocking him unconscious.

* * *

As they descended the steps of the Black Citadel into the Bane, Reeva asked for what seemed the hundredth time, "But seriously Rowan, Tribune Brimstone, Rytlock himself is gonna be here. You sure this is a good idea?"

"It's necessary," Rowan growled back.

"He's gonna pay for all his bull," Hafwen agreed. "He's had this coming forever. This is the last straw."

Elexus gave a nod and shared an impressed look with Dinky. "I gotta say, this warband's got rocks. I'm gonna like it here if I survive today."

"Never a dull moment," Forge supplied.

The Bane opened up before them: a gargantuan arena ringed by iron walls and lit by brilliant yellow lamps. Metal gates swirled open and shut as gladiators entered the arena, coming to fantastic blows as they fought for glory and power amongst the ruins of the once-great human city of Rin. The steel bench stands were only sparsely filled at the moment, with the majority of the audience gathered some distance to the left of the exit that Rowan's party came through.

Rytlock Brimstone was at the center of the group, watching over the gladiators in the arena while Steelbane stood to his left, speaking animatedly but drowned out by the noise of the Bane. The rest of the warband in attendance were gathered around the two, spread through the stands. If they weren't watching the gladiators like the tribune then they were talking amongst themselves. In particular, Rage Steeltongue and Cerosi Breaksteel were deep in conversation just outside of the crowd.

As Rowan and his group approached, Tribune Brimstone turned to see them. At first it was a glance of incidence, but the tribune cast them a second look and a smile crossed his features. He started walking towards them, the rest of the warband moving out of the way as he walked and falling silent as they saw who it was he was approaching. Rowan saluted the tribune, which Rytlock returned as he came before them and held out his arm. Rowan smiled and clapped his hand over the tribune's forearm, shaking Rytlock's hand proudly.

"Well," Rytlock said through his grin, releasing Rowan's arm and repeating the greeting with Hafwen, "Look who it is: the brave soldiers who assisted me in Barradin's crypt!"

"Good to see you again, tribune," Rowan said. In spite of the surge of pride, however, his face hardened. "If you'll excuse me though, sir, I need to speak with Steelbane."

Rytlock turned to look at him with a cocked eyebrow as he released Hafwen's arm. "Of course. I'm sorry to hear about the losses to your warband."

Rowan's tone softened, but his expression did not. "Thank you sir, we appreciate the condolences. Legionnaire Steelbane is under the impression that it was my fault."

Rytlock nodded and cast a wary look back to Steelbane. "I've heard as much." The legionnaire in question stood stock still, scrutinizing the exchange which could clearly be heard in the eerie silence of the warband. A small grin found it's way back to Rytlock's face as he turned back to Rowan. "Well...I'm not one to interfere in unit politics, but if you need assistance, let me know. You're one of the best, and I like to keep my best."

Rowan nodded and a smile found itself to his face again, however small. "I appreciate that tribune, but if we accepted that offer, we wouldn't be the best, would we? I'll handle Legionnaire Steelbane."

Rytlock nodded and stood aside, allowing Rowan and his group to pass. Reeva hissed to Dinky, "What in the Mists just happened?" to which Dinky simply shrugged, following Rowan.

His expression steely, Rowan arrived before Legionnaire Steelbane and gave him a stiff salute. "Reporting in, legionnaire. Tela Range was compromised, crawling with Flame Legion. The supplies were destroyed by the Flame soldiers."

Steelbane's eyes flared with his temper. "In other words you failed again!" he roared, drawing himself to stand over Rowan. "By the Claw of the Khan-Ur, give me one good reason why I shouldn't gut you where you stand!" He flinched as, in a flash, he found the tip of Hafwen's arrow pointing between his eyes.

"Go ahead and try," Hafwen hissed. Strider hissed beside her as the others drew their weapons.

"You don't have the spine, Steelbane," Forge growled.

"You're done," Rowan said lowly, drawing his blade. "You've got two choices: you either step down as legionnaire, or I knock you into the dirt here and now."

Despite the clear threat to him, Steelbane found the nerve to say, "You want my job, you insubordinate little puke? You've gotta earn it."

"He's right." Rowan and the others turned to see Rytlock approaching from behind with a wide, savage grin. "This is the Bane. You want his position, you do it right."

"Can't we just gut him right now?" Hafwen moaned.

"'Fraid not, soldier. Who is the challenger?"

Without hesitation, Rowan said, "Me."

"Then you've got to prove it. Three matches, three victories, and then you get the opportunity to take over as legionnaire."

Rowan glared at Steelbane, but relented and sheathed his weapons. He turned to Rytlock with determination. "Bring it on, sir."

Rytlock clapped Rowan on the shoulder. "Now that's what I like to hear!" He turned to look out over the arena. "Three combatants, three tests. The first test is to see how well you work together to take a group, a test of adaptation. The second is a test to see how well one member of your warband will function without your direct interference, a test of trust. If they fail that test, you must take their place. The third test is a test of skill, where you work to take down a much larger, more powerful foe. Understood?"

"Clear as crystal, sir. Let's do this." Rowan turned back to his warband and said, "Forge, Hafwen, you're with me in the arena. The rest of you, stay here, make sure that Steelbane and his lackeys don't try and pull anything dirty." His party saluted him and took their positions, with Hafwen and Forge following Rowan towards the arena entrance. As they passed Steelbane, Rowan turned his head to glare headlong at his legionnaire.

* * *

An hour and a half later, Rowan winced as Hafwen flicked his ear for the dozenth time. His dozenth reply was, "Worth it."

"Agreed," Forge said from his hammock. "Watching you get tormented by Hafwen is always worth it. Should we go get Arteus and Ferrus?"

"Leave them be," Hafwen said from her own bunk. "Ferrus needs his space."

"I seem to recall telling you that an hour ago when you wanted to see him."

"Shut it Rowan," Hafwen growled, a sound which Strider gladly emulated. "What's got you so cheeky and funny, eh?"

"Guess it's just how I deal with this stuff," Rowan replied. Dinky sat over him in his low cot, running a glowing hand over his ribs.

"Bruises are healin' up nice boss," Dinky said, dispelling the energy around his hand. "Honestly, with how that hammer hit ya, I thought you'd have a few broken ribs at least."

Elexus and Reeva sat at a nearby table with a chessboard. Elexus made a move and looked at Rowan. "So, what's the plan now legionnaire...Darkblade?"

"Darkedge."

"Right. Didn't hear all of what you and Rytlock were talking about, and-" She paused at a knock at the door. "Come in!"

A young charr, clearly still in the fahrar, opened the door and skittered into the room with a devourer hatchling in tow. The devourer scuttled through the door with a sack on its back, clicking happily. "Come on, Skewer! Tribune Brimstone said they were in he...re..." she skidded to a stop in front of Dinky, who stood towering over the eager little cub. "Whoooaaa...are you Legionnaire Darkedge? You have such big muscles!"

Dinky chuckled and patted the cub between the horns. "Well aren't you a cute little thing, huh?" He jabbed a thumb up and over his shoulder with a warm smile. "The legionnaire's back there. What's-whoa!"

The cub was fast! Like a bullet, she scooted past Dinky and jumped up on his vacant chair. She stared at Rowan with big, round cub eyes. "Wooowww, you must be him! I heard you slayed a hundred ghosts before you helped Tribune Brimstone take down the big ghost!"

Rowan chuckled and patted the cub like Dinky. "Greatly exaggerated kid, but thanks. What brings you around?"

"Oh!" The cub jumped off and shot over to her devourer. From the sack on its back she drew two bound folders. As the zipped back over to Rowan, Dinky blinked and fell flat on his tail to the quiet chuckles of the rest of the room.

The cub jumped back up onto the chair and gave the folders to Rowan. "These are from the tribune! He came to the fahrar and asked if one of us wanted to lend him a hand and deliver these super important documents to a friend of his!" She beamed and bounced up and down on her paws. "I was so excited, I ran up to him and jumped up and down and begged him and he said yes! Tribune Brimstone is my hero: he fought soooooo many dragon minions and took down their champions!"

Rowan laughed again. "Yeah, he's pretty great isn't he? What's your name, kid?"

As Hafwen sat on the edge of Rowan's cot, the little cub puffed up and saluted. "Sir, Rox Pickheart reporting!"

"And how old are you, little one?" Hafwen asked.

"Sixteen, ma'am!" Rox said.

"Really?" Hafwen said. "You look so young!"

Rox deflated a little. "Yes ma'am, that's 'cause I'm small for my age. I was the runt of my warband."

"Well," Rowan said, leaning forward. "I'll tell you a secret." He pointed to Dinky, who sat on the ground leaning on his elbows. "See him? Dinky's a big guy now, right? Not as tall as Forge or Hafwen, but he's so strong he could probably knock me out with one good punch. And guess what?" Rowan looked straight into Rox's inquisitive eyes. "He was one of the runts of our warband too."

"Wow, really?"

"Yeah. And you know what? I was too!"

"No. Way!"

"Way," Forge called from his hammock. "We used to pick on them all the time till they knocked some manners into us." He sniggered and craned his neck up. "Isn't that right, Tinyblade? OW!"

Hafwen had leaned over and grabbed one of the peons on the chess board, chucking it over at Forge to hit him square in the forehead. She tossed another chess piece up and down in her hand threateningly, but a grin of amusement stretched across her face. "Show respect, Forge; that's LEGIONNAIRE Tinyblade."

"Har har," Rowan grumbled, but he smiled nonetheless. "Wanna hear another secret? You've gotta promise not to tell ANYONE else about it though." At Rox's eager nod, he said, "You know who else was a runt? Tribune Brimstone." He laughed as Rox's jaw dropped in astonishment. "I know, right? That's how we ALL reacted when we found out. But between you and me, he's my hero too."

"Rowan's been modeling himself after the Tribune for more than a decade," Hafwen added.

"It's not about who is strongest, kid," Rowan said. "It's about being the strongest team. Work together, work smart." He shook the dossiers in his hand. "Thanks for bringing these to us, we appreciate it."

"Hey kid," Hafwen called, standing from the cot. She reached into her quiver and withdrew a flat-headed arrow, holding it out to Rox. "You're a ranger with lots of potential, so here, have an ace ranger's arrow."

Rox looked in astonishment at the arrow. "Wow, thanks ma'am!"

"Okay, let's make a deal," Hafwen said wryly. "The arrow's yours if you stop calling me ma'am, makes me feel like an old wreck. Call me...Darkleaf. Hafwen Darkleaf."

"She's my new lieutenant," Rowan said to the grinning Rox. "One of the best shots I've ever seen, she could give the legendary Pyre Fierceshot a run for his money."

"Thanks a lot, Lieutenant Darkleaf!" Rox beamed, accepting the arrow with a look of glee.

"No problem, kid," Hafwen smiled back. "Now how about you head back to the tribune and report a successful mission?"

"Yes ma'am - er, I mean, lieutenant Darkleaf!" She jumped off the chair and ran out the door, shouting, "Come on Skewer!" The little devourer scuttled after Rox.

Hafwen chuckled and closed the door. "Cute kid. Now, what'd she bring us?"

"The dossiers that Rytlock said he'd give us," Rowan replied, holding out the one with a rough "Fyon" inked into the leather. Hafwen took it and opened it, her eyes gliding over the contents. Rowan did the same with his. "Says here Soure's about our age," he said. "Strange, it's noted that he was a necromancer but it's been scratched out and replaced with mesmer. Quite the illusionist." He handed the dossier to Reeva, who also scanned through the contents.

"I sure wouldn't say no to a mesmer," she said. "Mistreated...Flame legion...oh, yeah I can definitely see why his warband got suspicious."

"The tribune said that he was training as covert ops with Ash."

Reeva nodded. "Yeah, that's in here too. Wrong place at the wrong time, you think? I bet his warband came up on him while he was trying to kill off the shaman by impersonating a traitor, or something convoluted and Ash-y like that."

"Don't forget, he is Blood Legion," Rowan admonished. "He only trained with the Ash Legion."

"I like Fyon," Hafwen said with an impressed nod. "Lots of awards on this guy - yikes, he led a campaign into Incendio Templum and succeeded!" She cocked an eyebrow at Rowan. "This guy's the real deal."

"I'm glad you guys like 'em, cuz they're our new recruits. We set out tomorrow morning. Soure has a rendezvous with a Flame shaman near the Victory Cenotaph tomorrow. Tribune Brimstone said the ghosts who killed Fyon's warband were near Decimus Stones. Still true?"

Hafwen nodded and handed the dossier to Forge. "Yup. What's the plan? Who are we going after?"

"Like I said earlier, why not both? We can divide our forces and get them both."

Elexus frowned. "I dunno legionnaire, you sure? We don't have a lot of soldiers left, isn't splitting us kinda risky? I mean, a platoon of ghosts, a squad of Flame Legion..."

"Not to mention what happened last time we got split up," Dinky growled.

Hafwen started tossing the peon up and down again. "No, Rowan's right. Last time we were caught in the middle of a full-scale battle. This time it's a small group of ghosts and a squad or two of Flame, nothing we can't handle."

"Exactly," Rowan affirmed. "I'll take Forge, Reeva, and Elexus after Soure. Hafwen, you've got Ferrus, Arteus, and Dinky to get Fyon."

"We ain't scared of no ghosts," Dinky boasted. "We'll bust em like...like..."

"Ghost busters?" Reeva supplied.

Hafwen shook her head. "No, that's stupid."

"Moving on," Rowan urged, "We've got our teams and our objectives. Now let's rest till morning. Rytlock's right: we've been through a lot, we need our rest."

"'Rytlock'?" Hafwen inquired.

Rowan shrugged and settled back into his cot. "Hey, you heard Rox. Rytlock called me his 'friend'. Give it a month and we’ll be bunking together. Ow."

Rowan flinched as Hafwen smacked his knee on her way back to her bunk. Laying in it and slipping her hands behind her head, she closed her eyes. "After this is all over, we're getting your head checked. I'm worried something's been knocked."

"Knocked...up? Ow." A chess peon bounced off Rowan's snout.

* * *

Morning found the Blood Legion's newly-minted Dark warband approaching the Smokestead infirmary, with smiling faces and gleaming armour. Arteus and Ferrus heard them from their cots. Rowan was surprised to find them already dressed in their gear, Arteus strapping his belt together and a leather-clad Ferrus sitting on the edge of his cot. "What's up with you two? I didn't send a messenger."

Arteus cracked his neck and rolled his shoulders, snapping the straps of his mantle under his armpits. "Nah, but we just got released for duty. Was actually about to grab the kid and come find you." A half-grin spread across the ashy charr's muzzle as he said, "So I hear we gotta find some new names, hmm? That's okay, I'm just gonna use the one I had as a kid: Darkroam."

Hafwen and Forge both walked over to Ferrus, plopping their tails down on either side of him. "So kid," Forge said, throwing an arm around Ferrus' back and giving him a rough pull. "How 'bout you, hmm? Gonna stick with Darkgear from the old days?"

Ferrus shrugged. "Sure."

Hafwen frowned, staring down at him. "Hey bud, I know it's hard...but stick out here with us, 'kay? Don't get too deep into that crazy head of yours, you'll never come out."

Ferrus shrugged again. Forge tightened his grip on the younger charr, giving him a warm one-armed hug. Hafwen frowned, unsure of what to do, and looked up to Rowan.

Rowan shook his head at Hafwen, then looked at each of his members. "Alright, I'll give you guys a quick briefing, and then we'll split the 'band and each group will pursue their objectives.

"With Steelbane gone, a huge part of the 'band jumped ship. But that's okay: we have a clean slate to build from. Tribune Brimstone has ordered us to bolster our ranks, and has given us two prime candidates, but we have to move fast - both of the recruits are in dire straits. The first is Soure Doomsday, an Ash-trained Blood Legion mesmer. Cast from his warband, so he needs a new home. He's set to rendezvous with Flame near the Victory Cenotaph. The other recruit goes by Fyon the Wraith. He's an old Blood Legion engineer, highly-decorated, but the last-surviving member of his previous warband. The Tribune thinks that he's suicidal, and he's en route to the Decimus Stones nearby here. Further details will be discussed en route.

"Here are the squads. Hafwen, I want you, Reeva, Dinky, and Arteus to go after Soure. You'll be the commanding officer for your unit. The rest of you are with me. Now gear up and move out, on the double!" The warband hastened to obey - Hafwen's team stood immediately, Hafwen barking at them to follow her. Rowan did the same, waving his arm to Forge, Elexus, and Ferrus. Rowan took a few steps before he noticed that Ferrus had not risen from his seat on the cot. Rowan frowned and laid a heavy hand on his bandmate's shoulder. "Come on Ferrus." His low tone was firm, but not unkind, and Ferrus looked up at Rowan for the first time since the assault. "That was an order. And Maverick wouldn't want you to just sit back, he'd want you out there taking the fight to the ghosts." At Rowan's grip, Ferrus gave a bleak nod and rose to his paws. He moved forward, sliding out of the grip his new legionnaire had on his shoulder. Rowan walked after the engineer; though it had softened, his frown was still very much present. They grouped up with their team in the outskirts of the makeshift hospital, swiftly departing to the Decimus Stones.

* * *

The journey was short - half an hour south, as the crow flies. Pockets of ghosts were swiftly dispatched by the four char; after one such skirmish, Forge leaned over to Rowan and pointed at Elexus, who had just sheathed her blade, coated in the rising vapours of the ghosts. "Where did you find her? She's fantastic!"

"You should go and tell her that yourself."

So Forge did. They walked together a few moments, on approach to the Decimus Stones. Rowan could not hear what was happening between them, but from what he could see, it was not difficult to guess. Forge had paid her a compliment, judging by her laugh, but he pushed his luck too far. Insistent in his flirtations, Rowan absolutely sided with Elexus when she turned and punched him in the ribs. Between her gauntlet and his lack of armour, Forge found himself clutching his side and bending over to catch the breath that had been knocked out of him. Rowan passed by him a few moments later, grinning down at him. "Learn your lesson?"

"Yeah, don't flirt with people when they're out of your league."

"Then truly, today was a success."

Forge righted himself as Ferrus passed them. The elementalist glared at Rowan with narrowed eyes. "You know, I think Hafwen's right. You were never this funny. We're getting you to a chirurgeon when we get back, something's up."

"Nothing is u-wait." He drew his staff and with a slash of its head, formed a shimmering translucent wall in front of Elexus. She stumbled back as it rippled with a loud report, a spectral arrow bouncing off the other side. "Rally to me!" Rowan roared. As Elexus and Ferrus came to his side, he slammed the butt of his staff into the ground, manifesting a translucent blueish bubble around them. "Ferrus, turrets now."

Ferrus immediately complied, dropping a pair of metal boxes on the ground. He pressed a button in his glove, and they unpacked into a mounted automatic rifle and a domed turret, inside which an elixir was swishing. With the scraping of metal, the three drew their own weapons.

Outside the dome, the air filled with a blue-white mist. Ghosts began to manifest: some from behind trees and rocks, some from the forest canopy, and others seemingly from the mist itself. And all of them released a ghostly wail as they closed in on the fading dome around the warband.


	3. Chapter 3

Hafwen’s frustrations were, in her opinion, reasonable: she was a ranger, not a spelunker. Her passion was the wild, the outdoors - the babble of a brook, the cry of a hawk, the wind rustling the treetops. Her passion was not the clattering of rocks tumbling from within a crumbling copper mine. Too confined, too much risk of being brained by a stray stone or collapsing beam.

“Mrrraahhhwwwrrr...”

Clearly Strider agreed.

“Hush Strider,” Hafwen shushed. The jungle stalker looked up at its master, clearly unhappy but obeying nonetheless. Hafwen peeked back out the mine exit, watching as a fair-sized patrol continued across the cliffs. It wasn’t until they rounded the corner that Hafwen waved at Reeva. The engineer stalked forward, crouched at the entrance alongside Hafwen. The new lieutenant pointed at a triad of Flame Legion soldiers twenty feet or so from the exit. “Ideas? I’m a good sniper, but not that good.”

Reeva scowled at the three soldiers. “Well temp-boss, my bullets don’t explode that wide - they’re too far apart. Don’t suppose Arteus or Dinky cou-”

Whatever Reeva was about to say was drowned out as Dinky let out a loud yelp, quickly muffled. Hafwen and Reeva looked back with wide eyed to see Arteus with a hand over Dinky’s muzzle. The short and bulky guardian had tears in his eyes, and Hafwen saw why: a large rock had fallen on his tail.

In spite of her sympathy for Dinky’s tail, Hafwen was mortified, and quickly cast a glance to the three Flame soldiers. They had heard the noise, and one was moving to investigate. Hafwen shooed Reeva inside and followed. “Into the cavern!” she hissed, pointing at a small enclave further behind them. The party silently and swiftly obeyed, slipping into the shadow of the cave.

Nobody made a sound. The clanking of the Flame soldier’s greaves could be heard from the cavern, echoing over the stones. Hafwen nocked an arrow on her bow and pulled back lightly, her eyes on the entrance to the cavern as the clanking and rumbling of the incurring charr grew closer. As the red-helmed head of the Flame soldier passed by the entrance, she drew the bow back and let fly - the arrow homed in on the soldier’s neck, and no sooner had he let out a gurgle and reached up in disbelief than a second arrow found its home in his skull.

Hafwen pointed at the soldier, and Arteus knew what to do. As Hafwen and Reeva moved forward to set snares and bombs through the entrance, Arteus reached forth to channel his magic into the corpse before him. With a squelching sound, the bones of the dead charr jabbed out of his body, reassembling into a grotesque devourer-like minion of bones and sagging muscle. The bone fiend was eerily silent as it walked along pointed legs to its master, serrated bone tails waving idly above its back.

Hafwen and Reeva returned to the group, Reeva holding a detonator in-hand. “Here’s what we’re going to do,” Hafwen whispered. “Those two are going to come looking for their friend eventually, but we don’t have all day. Dinky, you’re going to start throwing some light rocks and make noise. Once they walk into my snares, Reeva’s going to detonate the ground below them. It should kill ‘em, and if not then we can kill them before they come ‘round. Easy?”

“Might be stating the obvious,” Arteus rumbled, “but what if the cave collapses on us when you set off the bombs?”

Reeva shook her head. “They aren’t that powerful. They’re Ferrus’ shrapnel bombs - lots of flying metal, not very much kaboom.”

Arteus nodded. “Objection withdrawn.”

“Anything else?” Hafwen asked with a cocked eyebrow. When the ‘band shook their heads, she nodded and jerked her thumb behind her. “Good. Dinky, better get started.”

“Got it, boss.” Dinky grabbed rocks and started clattering them together. After a few moments, he gave one a heave and threw it hard near the entrance. It took a time, but soon enough the clatter of greaves could be heard approaching the mine. Hafwen nocked an arrow into her bow and patted Strider’s head, shushing the stalker’s low growl. Reeva held the detonator at the ready as the clanks echoed off the walls of the mine, her thumb held over the red button. Like the blast of a rifle, there was a shout of surprise and clashing of armour, signaling a soldier’s collapse, and Reeva slammed her thumb down on the detonator.

A loud snapping sound echoed through the caverns as the bombs detonated, followed by the whistling and ricocheting of metal shards whizzing through the cave. Hafwen flinched as a piece of shrapnel whizzed past her horns, ducking into the cave lest another happen her way.

Once the clattering of the shrapnel ceased, Hafwen waved the rest of the party back into the cave. The bodies were shredded - Hafwen cringed as the group came upon them. Without bidding, Arteus channeled his magic once again, and the familiar sound of bones and flesh reassembling into a magical construct crept through the cavern. “Dead gods Arteus,” Hafwen muttered, “doesn’t that sound just make you want to puke?”

Arteus shrugged. “You get used to it. What’s it look like outside?”

Hafwen looked out of the cave, peering left and right. “Hmm...ah!” She waved Reeva ahead and pointed to the left of the cavern. “Look there.”

Reeva crouched beside her and pulled on a pair of goggles. Adjusting them against her eyes, she followed Hafwen’s pointing finger. “I see him! I...think?”

“Purple and grey robes?”

“That’s who I see. He’s got like three guards.”

“That’s gotta be him.”

Arteus kept close to the wall, ignoring the light clicking of his new minions. “So what’s the plan?”

“Charge em,” Hafwen answered.

“Bad plan, boss,” Reeva muttered. “There’s two other nearby patrols. If we charge Soure’s guard now, we could alert them.”

“Then we assassinate?” Hafwen muttered. “Ugh, so Ash...but it’s probably the only way to do it without getting killed, isn’t it?”

“’Fraid so. Besides, I bet the Ash-trained soldier would be impressed.”

Hafwen peered out again, watching the patrol. “Well, we have to go now if we’re going to get him. They’re taking him away, and we need to get to him before they get to the castrum. Let’s move out.” At a wave from Hafwen, the group began to move forward. A hundred feet or so from the entrance, Hafwen halted them and drew her bow. “Reeva, stun bolts. I need to be able to snipe two. Arteus?”

“I’ll silence one.” He jerked his thumb back to the clicking bone fiend behind him, with its twin tails swaying lightly. “Bone spine to the head. Should be a clean, silent kill.”

“Good. Dinky, stay here and alert us if you see anything.”

“Got it boss. You’re startin’ to sound like Rowan.”

Hafwen growled and jabbed at the charr with a finger. “You’re lucky that we need to stay quiet or I’d chop your tail off for that,” she hissed. To the rest of the party she said, “Alright, let’s move out.”

Arteus and Reeva led the way, with Hafwen walking alongside the bone fiend in the rear. As they approached, Hafwen nocked her bow and drew lightly on the string. Four targets, three kills. With a low whistle, Hafwen gave the signal. No sooner had the breath left her teeth than the bone fiend beside her loosed its tail. One second later, Reeva had pulled her pistol out and loosed a stun bolt. As the bone spine found its mark in the skull of a Flame warrior, the charged bolt ricocheted between the two surviving soldiers. Hafwen took the opportunity to fire two arrows from her bow, nodding with grim satisfaction as they found their mark in the necks of the soldiers.

Soure’s expression was, to Hafwen’s surprise, completely unfazed. He looked at them as they approached. Hafwen told Reeva to go back and get Dinky before turning a weather eye on the mesmer in front of her. “So,” she began, “You’re Soure Doomsday? Rytlock Brimstone sent us. Said you’d be a benefit to the band. We need you.”

Soure released a dry, hollow laugh. “Need me? Yeah, tell that to my old warband. Didn’t matter that I was raised with them, fought beside them; they still didn’t trust me.” Soure clenched a fist and opened it, magenta bands knitting themselves together to form the glowing outline of a Flame Legion charr. “All I did was meet with a Flame shaman, and they called me a traitor. I just went there to assassinate him and steal his magic!” He clenched his fist once again and crushed the shaman in his hand. “I’d never turn my back on Blood...”

“That’s why we’re here.” Hafwen gestured to herself and Arteus, and then to the approaching forms of Reeva and Dinky. “We’re the Blood Legion’s Dark warband, and we need someone with your talents. Wanna join?”

Soure sized her up, before turning his gaze to Arteus and doing the same to him. “Hmmm...well, Flame already made me an offer: join or die. As a gladium, I didn’t have much choice, so how about you get me out of this shotgun wedding, yeah? Then I’m all yours...”

* * *

Rowan was a powerful guardian, but he was finding it increasingly difficult to hold the dome under the force of a dozen ghosts. The bubble rippled violently under the strikes of hammers, arrows, and swords. It was from the explosion of an ignited arrow that the dome finally broke, the barrier falling like shattered glass as the wails of the ghosts - no longer hindered by the bubble - rose to a cacophony.

No sooner had the barrier shattered than Ferrus’ turrets rattled to life. As the rifle fired on the ghosts and the turret churned its elixir, Rowan shouted, “Form up on Forge, keep the ghosts off him! Forge, we need a fire storm right now.”

Forge complied as his allies formed around him, Elexus and Rowan deflecting the incoming arrows as Ferrus’ newly-constructed turret spit fire at any ghosts that dared to approach. Forge channeled the fire magic through his staff into the air, concentrating it into a rain of fireballs to descend on the attacking ghosts. The ground exploded with each impact, scattering what ghosts the meteors didn’t crush into dust, but there were always more to take their place. As Rowan’s newest reflective barrier shattered under a hammer blow, the warband heard a cry from the treetops above.

A salvo of grenades flew from the canopy, exploding amid the ghosts. The grenades were swiftly followed by a roaring blur of red and orange metal descending from the trees. An old, grizzled charr landed in the middle of the Ascalonians, throwing grenades this way and that.

The warband wasted no time in going on the offensive against the surprised ghosts. Rowan and Elexus spearheaded the group, slashing through the ghosts as Ferrus and Forge assaulted from the rear, firing bullets and balls of flame at their aggressors. Upon meeting with the charr - immediately recognizable as their target, Fyon the Wraith - they brought their weapons to bear alongside the old one. With the surprise attack and the extra firepower, the warband was quick to dispatch the more aggressive ghosts, and the commanders quickly followed. With the wisps of their leaders rising from the ground, the ghosts scattered and fled to the trees.

Out of breath, the warband scanned the area to ensure the ghosts were fleeing. Rowan sheathed his sword and turned to Fyon, only for the old charr to growl at him. “What the hell were you doing? I’ve been planning on hitting them for weeks. You nearly ruined my plans!”

Rowan cocked an annoyed eyebrow. “Our apologies. Next time we’ll be sure to ask the hiding gladium whether he’ll grant us passage.”

“Smartass cub,” Fyon growled. “What do you want?”

“We want you to join our team.”

Fyon looked stunned a moment and then shook his head with a hollow laugh. “Not happening, cub. I’ve got a score to settle.”

“We could probably help with that. Want to let us in on the plan?”

Fyon glared at Rowan appraisingly, followed by each member of the warband in turn. “Hmm...fine. But not here. There’s a cave nearby, we’ll go there and I’ll get you up to speed. Follow me, and keep quiet.”

Rowan nodded, and motioned for the warband to follow. The cave itself was not far - no more than a twenty minute walk from the battleground. After checking the cave for ghosts, Fyon led them in, where they sat in a pow-wow and tried to ignore the bats rustling above.

“I’m not going to refuse help,” Fyon began, “but I’ve gotta know what your angle is, cub.”

“Well frankly,” Forge rumbled, “at this point it would be enough to just get you to stop calling us cubs, fossil.”

Fyon snorted and glared at Forge, then Rowan. “Have you all got smart mouths on you?”

Rowan shrugged. “If it helps, I only just developed mine. But I’ve already told you our angle: we want you in our warband.”

“Hah! And what would a bunch of cubs fresh out of the fahrar need with an old ‘fossil’ like me?”

“Rytlock says you’re one of the best,” Rowan answered, ignoring the jab. “Our last legionnaire sent many of us to our deaths, so we’re rebuilding, and we want the best.”

“Ah, so my ol’ friend Rytlock sent you. This what he wants from me before I die?”

“We’d all prefer if you leave the dying till much much later,” Forge said solemnly. “We’ve seen enough of that. Why don’t you come with us and start a new life?”

Fyon looked down at the dagger in his claws. “New beginnings are for the young. I’m a fossil right? I’m old, and I have only one thing left in my life.” His claws wrapped around the handle of the blade in a crushing grip. “Slash Warmaster Kaylar’s throat. His ectoplasm will drip down the fuller of my blade.”

“Graphic,” Elexus quipped with a cringe.

“He has it coming.”

“And how do you plan on doing that?” Rowan retorted. “Unless you can put a ghost down for good, he’ll just come back again.”

Fyon slammed the butt of his dagger on the stone ground and growled at Rowan. “My comrades howl for justice from their shallow graves. I’m not leaving here without evening the score!”

“Then how about a bargain?” Rowan’s question coaxed a raised eyebrow from Fyon. “We’ll help you purify the crypt in their honour. You and your warband will have their vengeance. If you survive, then you join us. If not-”

“Then I come back as a ghost myself. And I’ll keep killing these Ascalonian devils forever and ever...” He looked at Rowan dead in the eye. “Alright cub, you’ve got a deal.”

“Excellent,” Forge said with a clap of his hands. “Now that we’ve talked you out of your suicide pact, how about you fill us in on the plan?”

“We go in, guns blazing, and take down every ghost we see. Then I cut Kaylar’s throat.”

“Simple, brutal, effective,” Elexus said, smiling. “I like it. Let’s get started!”

As the party rose and dusted themselves off, Fyon leading them outside, Ferrus approached Fyon. “Fyon? I lost my warband too. My mate. But...we’re trying to make it better. Rowan’s doing everything he can.”

Fyon waved everybody towards the cave entrance and looked down at Ferrus. “A good leader makes all the difference kid,” he rumbled. “It’s a lot easier being alone if you have someone there to share it.” He patted Ferrus on the back, only to straighten up, ears tensed. “Hold it...hostiles engaging!”

No sooner had Fyon shouted his warning than five ghosts charged at them, hammers and swords raised.

Forge threw a claw up, raising an earthen wall in front of them. “Not anymore. Give me your daggers, I lost mine.” He didn’t wait for Fyon’s permission, grabbing both daggers and sticking his staff in the ground. Whirling a dagger in each hand, he charged forward, and as the earthen wall crumbled he unleashed three gouts of fire at the ghosts with a horizontal slash. The ghosts recoiled, and as Forge returned his gaze to them, he released a fan of flames from his mouth, setting the ghosts ablaze. A ghost broke through the flames and thrust her sword at Forge, only for the charr to roll aside. Propelled by a jet of fire, he lunged straight through the swordswoman, her ectoplasm scattering into wisps and dust with the force of his charge. He landed amongst the rest of the ghosts in an explosion of fire, whirling like a blazing dervish until all that was left of the ghosts was the dissipating mist. Forge returned to the group and gave Fyon his daggers. “Cub that, fossil,” Forge growled, retrieving his staff from the ground.

“Disrespectful cub,” Fyon growled back, leading the way once more.

The warband followed Fyon, who kept ahead at a brisk pace. “Rowan?” Rowan turned to see Ferrus beside him, a puzzled and disturbed look on his face. “What...what is wrong with Fyon?”

“What do you mean?”

“He’s old, but it’s like he thinks he’s already dead. Old isn’t dead!”

Rowan shook his head. “He’s been through a lot, Ferrus. He’s old, and he’s hurting.”

“But it’s...he’s not alone! He doesn’t have to be alone!”

“That’s what we have to convince him of.”

Ferrus turned to frown at Fyon’s distant back, his eyes blazing. “Maverick would kill me if I gave up like Fyon has.” He turned back to Rowan, teeth grit with a determined glare. “We need to beat Kaylar.”

“We’re going to have our chance soon,” Rowan said, jerking his chin towards Fyon. “The entrance to the Decimus Stones are just beyond the treeline.” Sure enough, Fyon came to a halt with the warband fanning out at his sides, staring at a pair of stony cliffs, the path between them leading to the haunted Decimus Stones. A suffocating silence seemed to fill the air. “This is it,” Rowan said from Fyon’s left hand.

“Move out,” Fyon growled, starting forward. Rowan followed along, and soon the rest of the warband followed suit. As they passed the threshold, a low groan began to fill the air. “Weapons at the ready,” Fyon warned, unsheathing his daggers. The warband obeyed, drawing their weapons and preparing their magic. Rowan waved his hand before him, and a light blue ring of magic expanded from him, wrapping itself around his companions.

“Won’t be caught by a surprise attack now,” Rowan growled lowly, “but keep your eyes peeled, and keep low.”

“We ain’t cowardly field mice like those Ash maggots,” Fyon retorted.

“No need to fight an unnecessary battle, Fyon,” Ferrus growled back. “Our target is Kaylar. We can avoid some fights if we stay low.”

Fyon snorted but conceded before turning to Rowan. “Fine. How about you take point, ‘boss’?”

“Sure,” Rowan said. He kept his torch forward, lighting the path in the haze. “Keep close to me.” As he pushed forth, the warband moved into position, flanking him in a diamond formation.

As they carried down the path, they heard voices from unseen ghosts. “...The charr will never take Ascalon...”

Eventually, the warband came across a statue, standing tall among the obelisks and boulders. Elexus bent down to read the plaque. “...Says here this was Warmaster Titus. Big-time Ascalonian warmaster when he was alive.” She grimaced in disgust at the statue’s knee. “Ugh, huge fly...” She lifted her fist and slammed it down - it missed the fly, but as it collided with the statue, the stone crumbled into dust. “Uh...oops?”

“Beautiful,” Forge quipped. “We have company.”

As the warband turned away from the statue, they saw rising from the ground a squad of Ascalonian ghosts. “Get them!” Rowan shouted, and with a collective roar the warband engaged the specters. Within moments, all that remained of the squad was wisps of blue mist, rising among the armed charr. “Good job,” Rowan rumbled, “But keep on your guard. And...” He cast a withering glance at Elexus. “Don’t touch anything.”

“Sorry boss.”

“Shh!” Fyon hushed the warband and moved behind a rock, motioning the others to do the same. As Rowan knelt down beside him, the old charr pointed ahead towards one of the Decimus Stones, a triad of stone pillars rising into the air with magic sparking between them. Around the stones patrolled three ghosts, armed with blades and bows. And they were moving slowly along the path the warband had just abandoned. “Patrol. We ain’t skulking maggots like Ash, but Ferrus is right: we can avoid some fights if we stay low. Your call; do we let ‘em pass, or take ‘em out?”

Rowan frowned and gestured for everyone to keep against the rocks. The legionnaire’s voice was a firm whisper. “Let them pass. If they engage, take them out.” At the wave of Rowan’s hand the party obeyed, pressing back to the rocks and ducking under the shadows they cast. The clanking echo of the ghosts’ armour rattled through the thick air. Rowan watched as the patrol passed by, his arm held out to the side as a sign to wait. Before long the distinctive blue of the ghosts began to fade into the mist, and as the clanks died down Rowan signaled the warband to move, and they silently moved along the rocks around the curved path.

The warband halted at the bottom of a flight of stone stairs. Forge pointed up the steps with his staff, towards what looked like the head of a giant statue. Though hidden by the ledge, the blue mist rising around the statue made it clear what to expect. “Ghosts,” Forge whispered.

“There doesn’t look to be another way around,” Elexus said.

“There isn’t.” Fyon stood and began walking up the stairs, only for Rowan to grab his pauldron and pull him back. “What the hell?”

“Are you insane?” Rowan hissed. “You just walk in there alone then you’re a dead charr.”

Forge quietly grabbed onto a rock and vaulted himself up, peeking over the ledge. After a moment, he lowered himself down and said to Rowan, “I saw three, might be another behind the statue. If we charge it we could probably take them all out quickly.”

Rowan nodded, ignoring Fyon’s growl as the older charr tugged his shoulder away. “Alright, let’s do it. Any mages?”

“I saw one, yeah, but I’m not sure if it’s an elementalist or a monk.”

“Doesn’t matter. Focus your fire on that one. Elexus and I will set up the front line and hold back any melee.”

“They have a ranger too, boss,” Forge whispered. “I don’t fancy getting hit by any exploding ghost arrows.”

“I’ll try and keep you shielded with my magic. Otherwise you’ll need to keep an eye out. Fyon and Ferrus will set you up with some more ranged support, should keep them guessing.”

“Let’s go already,” Fyon growled. “Every wasted second is another second that Kaylar lives and my warband goes unavenged.”

“Should have called you Fyon the Cranky, fossil,” Forge grumbled.

“Enough,” Rowan growled. “Focus your barbs at the ghosts, not each other. Fyon is right: let’s charge!”

Fyon let out a savage roar and ran forward, followed swiftly by Rowan and Elexus. The ghosts, though caught off-guard, were quick to respond. They wailed together in a cacophony, forming up with a shield-bearer in front and another materializing from behind the obelisk.

Rowan, Fyon, and Elexus collided with the shield-bearers, who threw them off with a shout. “DOWN!” The three heard Forge’s shout and ducked, a huge ball of fire streaking overhead with a salvo of grenades. The shield-bearers staggered, and Rowan and Elexus leapt on them, dispatching them with quick sword swipes across the throat.

It was as Rowan brought his head up that he saw the ghost-white fireball heading towards them. He leapt into Elexus, both of them shouting as the fireball impacted Rowan’s back and sent them reeling. Elexus stood in front of the injured Legionnaire and raised her shield, blocking a pair of ghostly arrows on its body. Ferrus leapt up alongside them and shot over the shield, narrowly missing the ranger. Another fireball streaked towards them, and Rowan raised his hand and cast forth a wall of light. The fireball bounced off the magic wall, and the elementalist and ranger ducked behind the obelisk to avoid its blast.

“Guess it’s not a monk,” Ferrus quipped, kneeling by Rowan and inspecting his armour. “Ghost fire, goes right through the armour.”

“Yeah, feels like my back’s burning. I just need a couple seconds to meditate, but my wall’s going to fade soon.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Forge said. He raised his hand and the earth near the obelisk began to tremble, exploding in a burst of stony shrapnel. The ghosts staggered out, looking as though they were bleeding ectoplasm. “We got this.”

No sooner had Forge spoke then Fyon charged forth again. His dagger sliced the ranger’s bowstring while the other buried itself in the mage’s chest. Fyon quickly angled the other dagger to stab at the ranger, but she rolled away and drew her own daggers.

Rowan took advantage of the time and closed his eyes, pulling his magic into his back. He felt the burn soothe and the skin mend. Within seconds his back felt as good as new, and he stood with his sword and torch drawn. “Take her down,” he shouted. The warband surrounded the ghost. A moment later, her wisps were the only sign that she had ever been standing there.

The warband gathered around the obelisk, but Fyon would have none of it. “Come on, we’re close to Kaylar, I can sense it...”

The warband followed him through the ruins, now seemingly devoid of any signs of Ascalonian activity beyond the blue haze in the air. “This is creepier than having the ghosts here,” Ferrus commented, keeping his pistol drawn and at the ready.

“Quiet!” Fyon barked. He pointed to an archway. “There, down that cavern.”

The warband moved forward, down into yet another ruin. At the end of the archway was a curtain of ivy, and beyond that a soft, pulsating white glow. Rowan pulled aside strands of ivy, leading the way through the crumbling archway further into the crypt. “Keep an eye out,” he instructed, but any further instructions were halted as the sound of billowing wind filled the air. From the ground of the ruins rose the figure of a human ghost, carrying with him an imposing sword and round shield.

“Kaylar...” Fyon growled. With a shout, he leapt forward and attacked with a savage snarl. Kaylar parried the strike with his shield, and his counterattack was only barely stopped as a wall of earth rose between him and the snarling old charr.

“Stupid old cat,” Forge shouted. He thrust his hand forward, blasting Kaylar with a gust of wind and knocking the ghost back.

Kaylar righted himself and stood with his shield and sword at the ready. “You mongrel beasts will never take Ascalon,” he shouted, and with a ghostly wail he leapt forward and stabbed towards Forge.

Rowan and Elexus leapt forward at once, body-checking the ghost and sending him stumbling to the side. They both drew their blades and faced down Kaylar, Elexus snarling viciously while Rowan bared his fangs in a feral growl. “Got a plan, boss?” Forge muttered. “I hit hard but I can’t exactly take a sword to the stomach.”

“Keep away from his blade.” Ferrus stalked over to them, grenades at the ready as Kaylar rose. The young engineer pointed to Kaylar’s sword, a ghostly fire seeming to circle around it. “It’s got some special magic.” As Kaylar screamed in fury and charged again, Fyon rushed forward and stabbed straight for his exposed side, and the ghost cried out as the elder charr’s daggers pierced his misty flesh and carved their way back out.

“The war’s over Kaylar!” Fyon shouted, keeping up the attack. Kaylar recovered and raised his shield, blocking the attacks while keeping a wary eye on his assailant. “It’s over, and you lost!” Fyon hooked his daggers on the outer rim of the shield, and with a furious roar he ripped the round shield from Kaylar’s grasp. Kaylar fell to his knees, but raised his sword in time to catch Fyon’s double stab downward. “This is for my warband!” With yet another savage cry, Fyon pulled the sword down and dealt a heavy upward strike with his knee, knocking the ghost back. He dove for the kill, but Kaylar rolled to the side and raised his blade for a counterattack...

A blast, shout, and clattering of metal echoed through misty ruins, followed by the sound of steel carving into flesh. Ferrus stood between Rowan and Elexus with a smoking pistol, while Kaylar stood hunched over Fyon, sword arm nothing but a wispy stump where Ferrus’ shot had connected, and two daggers visible inside his translucent form.

Fyon heaved and threw Kaylar to the side, where his form began to evaporate. “For my warband...” Fyon repeated, watching the mist fade with a look of disgust on his face. A heavy silence pervaded the ruins, broken only by a gesture from Rowan to leave the crypt, and the slow, steady thumping of boots on dirt. At the touch of Ferrus’ hand on his shoulder, the elder sheathed his blades and followed the younger from the ruins.

Once outside the ruins and into the sunlight once more, Forge clapped Ferrus on the back. “That was a great shot bud,” he said with a wide smile. “You did Mav proud.”

Meanwhile, Rowan approached a silent, brooding Fyon. “So...”

“Maybe now my brothers and sisters can find rest in the Mists,” Fyon said, letting out a long breath. To Rowan it sounded like something pent up, a true breath of fresh air.

“You silenced Kaylar,” he assured Fyon. “They’ll find satisfaction in that.”

“Heh,” Fyon chuckled. He looked up at Rowan, with something of a glint in his eye. “You know...maybe this old cuss has a few fights left in him. You still have room in your ranks?”

The glade outside the cave had gone almost silent, and Rowan laughed to ease the tension. “We do. Welcome to the Dark warband, Fyon the Wraith.”

Ferrus let out a loud whoop and laugh. “Yes, he said yes, woo!” Fyon merely chuckled at his antics.

“Dark warband, huh?” Fyon scratched his chin. “Call me Darkwraith. Yeah, Fyon Darkwraith...I like the sound of that.”

* * *

“Dead gods these Flame soldiers are fat,” Hafwen groused, heaving the corpse of a Flame Legion armsman behind a rocky outcrop.

“Good thing they didn’t have you cookin’ for em then,” Arteus retorted, throwing another in after Hafwen. “You sure this is gonna work?” he asked, following the tawny female to join Dinky and Reeva behind a rock hill.

“Only one way to tell,” Reeva said, grabbing onto the rock face. “Let’s get climbing. My little scanner isn’t showing anything up there.”

“Still, keep your pistol at the ready,” Arteus advised. “I don’t fancy happening into a sword in my gut.”

The warband began their ascent. Though not a high ledge by any means, the hill was littered with loose and crumbling stone, and it was difficult to climb without sending debris rolling down and alerting their quarry. It wasn’t until Arteus, Hafwen, and Reeva had assembled atop the rock that a stone was dislodged by Dinky, rolling showering dust down below. Hafwen and Arteus hastily dragged him up as Reeva began to set up a small mounted rifle turret. “Burn me Dinky,” she hissed, averting her attention for a moment to glare at the guardian. “Keep it down.” She returned to her work, configuring the turret.

In the meantime, Hafwen walked over to the ledge above the castrum below. A red glow rose from below, pulsing slowly and bathing the grey stone in a fiery hue. Coming from the north was Soure, approaching the small guarded gate at the front of the castrum. “Ah, the new meat,” one of the guards said. “Where’s your escort?”

Soure held out a flame-orange helmet. “We were ambushed by a Blood patrol; we fought them to a retreat, but got hit by a sniper when we started towards camp.” He held the helmet up, pointing to a neat hole in its skull.

One of the guards moved forward and grabbed the helmet, looking at the hole. “And how do we know you didn’t make it, Blood heathen?”

Soure blinked, completely deadpan. “Are...are you serious? I’m a mesmer, not an archer or a rifleman - the hell would I use to make that?”

The soldier narrowed his eyes suspiciously, but turned and waved Soure forward. “Fine, let’s go.” Soure nodded and followed the guard, scratching between his left ears as he passed through the threshold.

“There’s the first signal,” Hafwen whispered. “He’s got his mantras prepared, we’re almost ready to go.”

“Good,” Reeva replied. “Turret’s configured to cover our escape.” She pulled the rifle from her back, looted from a now-dead Flame soldier, and knelt near the ledge. “I’m ready to snipe away too boss, just give the signal. It’s no Bessy, but it’ll do the job for now.”

Hafwen nodded and went back to watching Soure. The young mage was now in the castrum proper, approaching a Flame soldier adorned with intricately-designed armour, clearly the charr in charge.

“Ah, the new meat.” The soldier rose from his seat before the fire, hunched and savage-looking. “I am Recruiter Szagur. You’re to come back to the Flame Citadel with me.” He grinned and rested his hand on the pommel of a jagged dagger strapped to his side. “Let’s go.”

The soldier who escorted Soure grabbed his shoulder, only to be shaken off by the mesmer. “Hey, hands off. What about our deal? I’m not going anywhere till you give me all the details. What kind of power will I get?”

Szagur laughed, first in a low rumble and rising into a loud belly laugh. “Ah, I like you! You got spunk kid! I’m no mage myself, but like all our shamans you’ll have the power of Flame at your clawtips. Every candle, every bomb - no wisp of fire beyond your will, no limit to the blazes you can conjure! Not only the power of fire, but its essence, it’s very being, all bending to your will...”

Soure crossed his arms, nodding with an impressed expression. “Gods,” he muttered, “That’s a lot of power. I could burn so much...but no thanks.” He reached up and scratched his nose, and in that instant three charr descended from above, each landing on and dispatching a guard. The entire camp flew into a panic, scrambling for weapons as Hafwen, Arteus, and Dinky formed around Soure and began slaying unprepared guards.

“ACTIVATE THE TURRETS!” Szagur roared. His minions scrambled to do so, only to find bombs falling and smashing into the flame-spitting turrets, exploding in a hail of shrapnel. As the remainder of the Flame contingent rallied around Szagur - now totalling seven - the recruiter seethed. “You...” he growled, gripping his dagger tightly in rage. “We had a deal. Without a warband to back you up, you’re dead meat...”

Hafwen nocked an arrow to her bow and stepped forward. “We made him a better offer. Stand aside, or else-”

“Or else what?” Szagur interrupted, glaring at her. “Save your empty threats.” He turned back to Soure. “It’s too bad, really,” he said, a hint of a smile on his face. “You could have had more power than in your wildest dreams, Soure...”

Soure shrugged. “My dreams involve a barrel of whiskey, an Ash Legion minx, and you, dead at my feet.” He pulled his sword from his side and threw the helmet, rolling along the ground to land before Szagur. “Time to make that last one a reality...”

Szagur roared and pointed at the warband. “Kill them all!” He drew his daggers as his men charged, an angry gaze fixed on Hafwen. “I’ll add this one’s tail to my collection.”

Any further commentary was drowned out as the two sides met. Two Flame soldiers fell dead to the ground as Reeva fired neat headshots from above, and Hafwen caught a third off-guard by thrusting an arrow through his eye. He reeled back, and a snarling Strider leapt from behind the ranger to rip out the throat of the prone charr. In the meantime, Arteus and his minions battled another soldier in close quarters, the soldier panicking and swiping at the minions nipping at his heels. As he blocked a downward stab from Arteus, the little minions sank their teeth into his calves. The soldier let out a cry, only to be silenced with a gurgle as Arteus swiped his dagger clean through the exposed throat.

Dinky blocked a strike from a soldier wielding a hammer on his shield, and with a powerful push he overbalanced the larger charr. The soldier was quick to recover, however, using his hammer to catch himself and moving into an upward swing which Dinky only barely managed to dodge. As the soldier made a move towards Dinky to strike, he made a sudden jerking motion, and he fell to the ground with his hammer, blood oozing from a bullet hole in his skull.

Hafwen and Strider fought with Soure against Szagur, but the Flame recruiter was nimble. He tore through Soure’s illusions as fast as the mesmer could make them, all while dodging Hafwen’s arrows and the vicious teeth of Strider. An arrow finally found its home in his shoulder, and he yelped and yanked it out. “Burn you!” he shouted, leaping at Hafwen, who nimbly jumped back and loosed an arrow. “You made me bleed my own blood!”

Soure leapt forth with the distraction and stabbed forward, but Szagur parried and kicked an encroaching Strider. “Enough! I’ll skin you alive and wear your pelt like a robe!”

“Maybe in your dreams,” Soure quipped, and just like that his body seemed to shatter like glass. Szagur’s face was shocked for a fraction of a second before the familiar ‘shnk’ of blades carving into flesh sounded from behind him. He collapsed to the ground, revealing the form of Soure behind him.

“Nice trick,” Hafwen said, clearly impressed.

“You saved my tail,” Soure said, “Figured I’d pay it forward.”

Arteus stalked up alongside his minions, a wide grin on his face. “Kid, if I had any doubts about you, you just crushed ‘em flat.”

“We could use ten of you!” Hafwen crowed, kicking Szagur to the side.

“You don’t need ten,” Soure said with a wink and a sly grin. “Just me, and that barrel of whiskey.”

Hafwen laughed and patted him on the back. Strider gave a yowl and arched his back. “I think that can be arranged,” Hafwen replied. “How about we get back to base, hmm? Welcome to the Dark warband!”

“Just call me Soure Darkomen.”

“Good name,” Reeva called, sliding down the face of the cliff to land among the group. “Now, let’s teach you how to quip as well as you name - that whole ‘make that last one a reality’ thing was pretty weak.”

* * *

The Three Legions tavern in Smokestead was back in working order. From their place at the bar, Rowan and the others had to suffer through the barkeep’s whinging, complaining about having his supplies commandeered by the makeshift hospital’s staff. He was working himself up into a proper rant when Rowan caught a glimpse of a familiar stalker out of the corner of his eye. He tucked the envelope he held into his armour and stood, waving the others from the bar. “Welcome back!” Rowan greeted, lifting his mug. “Barkeep, drinks for the whole warband on me!” The warband cheered - particularly Reeva and the newcomer, who Rowan gathered must have been Soure. He grabbed a mug from the sour bartender and held it out to the young charr. “Hail friend, you must be Soure. Welcome to the warband.” He waved Fyon up, and the older charr walked up with Ferrus close behind. “Everyone, this is Fyon.”

Arteus moved forward and gave Fyon a hearty pat on the shoulder, to which the old charr glowered and growled. “Well would you look at this, I’ve never seen so much fire in an old timer! Welcome to the warband, Fyon.”

As the warband began to mingle and regale one another with mission reports, Hafwen reached for a mug of ale, only to be stopped by Rowan. “Hey, what gives?” she groused.

“Water for you, like me,” Rowan said, offering his mug to her. “You and I have to report to the Tribune.”

Hafwen shook his hand off, but took the offered mug. “Bah, that’s not my job - you’re the legionnaire, not me.”

“Funny, that,” Rowan chuckled, “Because you’re my lieutenant. And last I checked, I left you in charge of the mission to rescue Soure. Besides...” He reached into his armour and held the envelope out to Hafwen. “This was waiting for us when we got back to Smokestead. Tribune Brimstone has asked to see both of us.”

Hafwen pulled a letter out through the slit in the top and scanned it. “Burn me,” she growled, downing the rest of the water. “I’m too tired for this.”

“Orders are orders,” Rowan said. He held five silver pieces out to the barkeep, who took them gladly, before standing up and waving Hafwen towards the door. “Come on, you can fill me in on the way.”

* * *

Rowan and Hafwen stood outside the Tribune’s office. Though the door was shut tight, the two charr heard shouting muted from behind it. They shared a look before Rowan knocked on the round portal-like door. The shouting stopped, and within moments the door opened to reveal a grizzled Blood Legion charr with white fur and red armour. Rowan backed up a step. “Um, Tribune Sparwind? We were summoned by Tribune Brimstone.”

The white-furred Tribune scoffed, but backed up. “Perfect timing, Legionnaire. We were just talking about you. Or more specifically, your old warband.”

Rowan and Hafwen shared another look, frowning at one another as they walked in. Rytlock stood hunched over his desk, leaning on the metal slab. “Ah, Legionnaire Darkedge and Lieutenant...Darkleaf, is that right?”

“Yes sir,” Hafwen saluted. “But skip the formalities and just call me Hafwen.”

“We come with good news Tribune,” Rowan said, mirroring Hafwen’s salute. “Both Soure and Fyon have joined the Dark warband. Also, please don’t shoot the messenger, but Fyon says, ‘Hello, cub’.”

Rytlock grinned. “That fossilized smart-ass,” he said. “Well, when you get back, tell him that the ‘young cub’ says ‘hello, geezer’. But for now, good job. I’m glad you took over from Steelbane. You utilized all of your resources effectively, and after your predecessor, Blood Legion needs that. Now, here’s your next assignment.

“I’m sure you heard the...discussion that Tribune Sparwind and I were having.”

“If you could call it that,” Hafwen mumbled.

Rytlock grinned. “Yeah. One of Steelbane’s men, Rage Steeltongue, has become a bit of a problem. After you took over, he defected to the Flame Legion, and he’s determined to bring you down at any cost.”

Rowan scoffed. “Not a problem, Tribune. We’ll drag him back to Blood by his scrawny tail.”

Rytlock shook his head. “No. There’s a time for mercy, and a time for mercy-killing. I’m not giving Rage the chance to betray the Blood Legion twice.”

Hafwen curled her claws into a fist. “A one-way trip to the Mists it is, then.”

“That’s the plan, Lieutenant.” Rytlock stood up and stretched. “You know what? I’ll give that message to Fyon myself. I’m coming along.”

Rowan cocked an eyebrow, but turned to Hafwen. “Gather the ‘band and meet us down by the citadel gates.” Hafwen nodded and loped away on all fours. Rowan turned back to Rytlock, who pulled on his gauntlets and cracked his neck. “Sir? With respect, are you sure about this?”

Rytlock grabbed the belt which held Sohothin and looped it around his waist. “Your concern is unwarranted, Legionnaire. We did just destroy a giant living Ascalonian statue the other day. Besides...” He patted Rowan on the shoulder and started out of the office. “I’ve been meaning to stretch my legs a bit. Now let’s get moving.”


End file.
